

148 The Beginning ...The Beginning of the Awful End148 The Beginning ...
Wide eye she awoke to the destruction of a world no longer her own. Hopelessly she walked, through the ash and ice, looking for home.
We are the lonely, lost, and afraid. And who are we without what makes us real? Leave it to burn and follow me.
Farther and further she traveled. The wind often trying to cling to her and divert her from her nothern path.
We are searching, clawing, and falling. And what will keep us from breaki


Gloomy SundayMondays are conversations with Mrs. M. She had recently lost her husband and her son One from natural causes, and the other from war But Mrs. M. still had here little cat She was already fifteen and suffering from cancer Yet Mrs. M couldn't bear to be left alone She once told me that her greatest fear Is death, but death loves her And steals from her like a lowlife theif. Death is a black night mare, she said, In a black nightmare.Gloomy Sunday
I would play the piano for Mrs. M. Her favorite song is "Gloomy Sunday," Even though it is only Tuesday. She told me that s


-not titled- -at all-The rattle of a bridge in Manhattan-not titled- -at all-
just hit the streets of people going to work, filled the air, danced between the radio waves,
a n d f lew p a s t my w in d o w -fazoom!


InanaYou say, "him and him", and I know you're truly lost. Then there I am, sockless and out of breath, with my heavy hand and my heavy hand. And I know we're one -- all of us, one. You say "blessed" and "these are the ties" and "yes, this is hard" -- you bet your life it is.Inana
Here's Jesus Christ now, naked and deadly and beautiful as cancer, crying, "Daddy, daddy, please don't let me die." And Tori sings, "Oh, these little earthquakes" - no, not much, not much at all. Listen, listen: this is how angels fall, this is how light spills through cracks in the sky.
Oh,
--
"Creative people MUST (NOT) be stopped."
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