I'm Usually Working On My Own Mythology,

My Conscience Is Killing Me, Isn't It? And When You're Immortal That Can Be A Really Long And Ignominious Death

Oh, If The Moon Only Had A Secret, If The Moon Only Held A Truth. But The Moon Was Just The Moon.

Let Tears Gather In Your Eyes. You Haven’t Tears Enough For What You’ve Done To Me. Six More Mortal Years, Seven, Eight…i Might Have Had That Shape!’ Her Pointed Finger Flew At Madeleine, Whose Hands Had Risen To Her Face, Whose Eyes Were Clouded Over. Her Moan Was Almost Claudia’s Name. But Claudia Did Not Hear Her. ‘yes, That Shape, I Might Have Known What It Was To Walk At Your Side.

It Was As If The Empty Nights Were Made For Thinking Of Him. And Sometimes I Found Myself So Vividly Aware Of Him It Was As If He Had Only Just Left The Room And The Ring Of His Voice Were Still There. And Somehow, There Was A Disturbing Comfort In That, And, Despite Myself, I’d Envision His Face.

There May Be Writing Groups Where People Meet But It's Occasional. You Really Do It All At Your Own Computer Or Your Own Typewriter By Yourself.