It’s Pretty Thin, The Wall Separating Healthy

His Heart, Like Mine, Was Ticking Off The Time Allotted To His Small Restless Body.

Her Voice Was Like A Line From An Old Black-and-white Jean-luc Godard Movie, Filtering In Just Beyond The Frame Of My Consciousness.

Sex Is An Extremely Subtle Undertaking, Unlike Going To The Department Store On A Sunday To Buy A Thermos.

This Person, This Self, This Me, Finally, Was Made Somewhere Else. Everything Had Come From Somewhere Else, And It Would All Go Somewhere Else. I Was Nothing But A Pathway For The Person Known As Me.

Most Everything You Think You Know About Me Is Nothing More Than Memories.