We Are, All Four Of Us, Blood

I Am A Kind Of Paranoid In Reverse. I Suspect People Of Plotting To Make Me Happy.

How Old Are You? I Asked Her. "old Enough To Know Better." She Said.

Grand. There's A Word I Really Hate. It's A Phony. I Could Puke Every Time I Hear It.

She Worries Over The Way Her Love For Me Comes And Goes, Appears And Disappears. She Doubts Its Reality Simply Because It Isn't As Steadily Pleasurable As A Kitten. God Knows It Is Sad. The Human Voice Conspires To Desecrate Everything On Earth.

I Was Trying To Feel Some Kind Of Good-bye. I Mean I’ve Left Schools And Places I Didn’t Even Know I Was Leaving Them. I Hate That. I Don’t Care If It’s A Sad Good-bye Or A Bad Good-bye, But When I Leave A Place I Like To Know I’m Leaving It. If You Don’t You Feel Even Worse.