January 2012
“I’ll come to you tonight, dear, when it’s late, You will not see me; you may feel a chill. I’ll wait until you sleep, then take my fill, And that will be your future on a plate. They’ll call it chance, or luck, or call it Fate.”
What I sought was the sense of being tossed about by some raging, savage force, in the midst of which lay something absolutely crucial. I had no idea what that was.
But I didn’t understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.
Listen
“Nothing matters, we’re all dust.”
I told her I’m her worst nightmare. This is hell, you don’t ever gotta fight fear. My spirit floats around in the night air. Or in your day dreams, that’s how death seems.
Listen
How many times do I have to try to tell you that I’m sorry for the things I’ve done. But when I start to try to tell you that’s when you have to tell me, hey, this kind of trouble’s only just begun. I tell myself too many times why don’t you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut. That’s why it hurts so bad to hear the words that keep on falling from your mouth....
