Even in my dreams I die.

"Send me your picture," he said, "so that I might remember what I never had."

I see her in my mind

but she is absent from my streets.

It is as though the world were empty

and life had not yet been invented.

I know what I desire but I no longer know how to obtain it.

The night is my only faithful mistress

She clothed his eyes with the curves of her flesh.

If I gave you an opening

would you enter?

Or the house of my being

not interest you?

True it is ramshackle

and cockeyed.

The foundation has cracks

and the attic is dusty and crowded,

spiderwebs in every corner

and whatever else lurking

in the shadows.

But the rest is well-worn

and comfortable.

Not the latest fashion

but still functional

and you will find things,

many things,

wonderful things,

scary things,

dark things

and things that will blind you,

if you look.

I will leave the door open.

Please enter.

I will brew a rich brew

of my knowledge

and you,

you will add beauty

and sunlight

where it has been lacking.

"I’m always open to the right possibility," he said.

"Define right," she said.

The stimuli elicited response.

That my mind is a well does not mean I have well mind.

The problem with nostalgia is that the past is overrated. It was never as good as it seems now.

I am not a brand. I am a human being.

There was still the slimmest chance they would make love before the end of the world if he did not die first.

If human beings knew what they were doing, they wouldn’t be looking at their own extinction, or better yet, denying its immanence.

If I was worried about alienating you I would say nothing. You are free to shut me off.