As If You Cut Open A Rag

For This Moment, Nothing Matters. Look Up Into The Stars And You're Gone.

Worker Bees Can Leave. Even Drones Can Fly Away. The Queen Is Their Slave.

No Mat­ter How Much I Try And Hide This, Bit By Bit, I Start To Fall Apart.

With The Novels, I Usually Start From Something In My Own Life That I Can't Resolve, So I Turn It Into A Metaphor And For Months Or Sometimes Years I'll Exhaust All Of My Emotional Reaction To This Issue By Making It Enormous On The Page.

Real Smarts Begin When You Quit Quoting Other People.