Inside Us, A Flower Taken Whole, A

By The Time I'm Nine I Know The World Is A Dangerous Place. I've Heard Whispers About Razorblades In Apples, About Charlie Manson And His Family. But No One Is Offering Any Clear Information.

We Got Him To Talk To A Psych Doctor Once, The Doctor Asked If He Heard Things Other People Don't. Sure, Paul Answered, I Hear Birds In The Morning When Everyone's Sleeping, I Hear Trees Rustling When No One's Around.

In My Experience, Whatever Happens Clings To Us Like Barnacles On The Hull Of A Ship, Slowing Us Slightly, Both Uglifying And Giving Us Texture. You Can Scrape All You Want, You Can, If You Have Money, Hire Someone Else To Scrape, But The Barnacles Will Come Back Or At Least Leave A Blemish On The Steel.

Certain Stories We Carry With Us, Events In Our Life, They Define Who We Are. It's Not A Matter Of Getting Over Anything; We Have To Make The Best Of It.

Who Doesn't Want To Just Disappear, At Some Point In The Day, In A Year, To Just Step Off The Map And Float?