When I Was A Child, Writing Was

Alcohol Is The River We Sit On The Banks Of, Contemplating. Sometimes We Watch Ourselves Float Past, Sometimes We Watch Ourselves Sink.

Everything We Do, I'd Imagine, Influences Everything We Will Do.

Writers, Especially Poets, Are Particularly Prone To Madness.

Change Is One Of The Only Constants In Buddhism; As Meditation Became The Way I Breathed In The Days, This Became Apparent.

I Offer Emily Half Of My Hit Of Acid- Love Saves The Day. It's My Second Or Third Time Tripping, Emily's First, And She's Understandably Trepid. Awake All Night, At One Point I Find Her Touching Her Reflection In A Cruelly Lit Dorm Bathroom, Asking If She'll Ever Be The Same. I Kiss Her Then For The First Time And Whisper, No.