To Have Been Always What I Am

Then I Went Back Into The House And Wrote, It Is Midnight. The Rain Is Beating On The Windows. It Was Not Midnight. It Was Not Raining.

Let's Go." "we Can't." "why Not?" "we're Waiting For Godot.

Nothing Matters But The Writing. There Has Been Nothing Else Worthwhile... A Stain Upon The Silence.

Nothing Happens. Nobody Comes, Nobody Goes. It's Awful.

I Tried To Groan, Help! Help! But The Tone That Came Out Was That Of Polite Conversation.