...you Know The Mistrust Of Heights Is

How Easy I Was. Like A Limpet I Attached Myself To Anything, Anyone Who Showed Me The Least Attention.

So Much Wanting And Longing, Clutching, Desiring, Passion And Hatred And Terrible Need. Here, Death Was Suitable, There Was Room For It, The Grip Of Life's Relentless Urges Slackened, Replaced By This Icy Simplicity. This Wasnt Her Death. It Was His. That Was The Sad And Honest Truth. Though It Would Stay With Her, It Would Be More Like A Black Onyx Heart On A Silver Chain, Worn Privately, Under Her Clothes, Close To Her Body, All Her Life. The Guilt, The Beauty, Everything. It Wasnt Over, It Had Only Begun. Well Ok Then, Okay.

They Say Drugs Are Not The Answer, But Really, What Is The Question?

How Many People Ask You To Come Share Their Life?

We Don't Have A Unitary Society Anymore, You Know; It's Very Fragmented. I Look Up And Down My Block In Silverlake And There Is A Different Universe In Every House.