There Was A Part Of Her She

And With Each Step My Heart Broke For The Person I Would Never Find, The Person Who'd Love Me. And Then I Would Remember I Had A Wife At Home Who Loved Me, Or Later That My Wife Had Left Me And I Was Terrirfied, Or Again Later That I Had A Beautiful Alcoholic Girlfriend Who Would Make Me Happy Forever. But Every Time I Entered The Place There Were Veiled Faces Promising Everything And Then Clarifying Quickly Into The Dull, The Usual, Looking Up At Me And Making The Same Mistake.

Before This Moment I'd Lived As A Mind. Body, Heart, Soul, Intellect, So We Care Ourselves Into Parts. But The Whole Of Us, What Can It Be?

I Was Probably 35 When I Wrote The First Story. The Voice Is Kind Of A Mix In That It Has A Young Voice, But It's Also Someone Who's Looking Back. I Like That Kind Of Double Vision.

We In Purgatory Sing Fondly Of Hell.

[the Doctor] Peeked Into The Trauma Room And Saw The Situation: The Clerk - That Is, Me - Standing Next To The Orderly, Georgie, Both Of Us On Drugs, Looking Down At A Patient With A Knife Sticking Up Out Of His Face. 'what Seems To Be The Trouble?' He Asked.