I Do Not Like To Work And

She’s Mad, But She’s Magic.

Now Something So Sad Has Hold Of Us That The Breath Leaves And We Can't Even Cry.

Censorship Is The Tool Of Those Who Have The Need To Hide Actualities From Themselves And From Others. Their Fear Is Only Their Inability To Face What Is Real, And I Can't Vent Any Anger Against Them. I Only Feel This Appalling Sadness. Somewhere, In Their Upbringing, They Were Shielded Against The Total Facts Of Our Existence. They Were Only Taught To Look One Way When Many Ways Exist.

That Moment - To This ... May Be Years In The Way They Measure, But It's Only One Sentence Back In My Mind - There Are So Many Days When Living Stops And Pulls Up And Sits And Waits Like A Train On The Rails. I Pass The Hotel At 8 And At 5; There Are Cats In The Alleys And Bottles And Bums, And I Look Up At The Window And Think, I No Longer Know Where You Are, And I Walk On And Wonder Where The Living Goes When It Stops.

I Thought You Were Sane," I Said, "but You're Just As Crazy As The Rest Of Them.