My Friend "m" Says The Irony Of

It's More Eerie To Be Alone In A City That's Lit Up And Functioning Than One That's A Tomb. If Everything Were Silent, One Could Almost Pretend To Be In Nature. A Forest. A Meadow. Crickets And Birdsong. But The Corpse Of Civilization Is As Restless As The Creatures That Now Roam The Graveyards.

I Adapt To Things Quickly, Including Good Things, Which I Wish I Could Shut Off Sometimes. My Friends Have To Keep Reminding Me How Crazy My Life Has Become, And Then It Hits Me Fresh And I Just Slap My Forehead And Think, "wait, What... ?"

I Think For A Minute. Watching My Wife Fade Into The Distance, I Put A Hand On My Heart. "dead." I Wave A Hand Toward My Wife. "dead." My Eyes Drift Toward The Sky And Lose Their Focus. "want It...to Hurt. But...doesn't." Julie Looks At Me Like She's Waiting For More, And I Wonder If I've Expressed Anything At All With My Halting, Mumbled Soliloquy. Are My Words Ever Actually Audible, Or Do They Just Echo In My Head While People Stare At Me, Waiting? I Want To Change My Punctuation. I Long For Exclamation Marks, But I'm Drowning In Ellipses.

Can We Really Choose Anything?' 'maybe. If We Want To Bad Enough.

You Can Order Yourself To Treasure A Moment, To Cling Tight To A Feeling And Never Let It Fade, But It's Your Brain, That Three-pound Lump Of Hamburger, That Makes The Final Call.