Good Writing Is Full Of

Upon The Demon-ridden Pilgrimage Of Human Life, What Next I Wonder.

For Most Of Us The Space Between 'dreaming On Things To Come' And 'it Is Too Late, It Is All Over' Is Too Tiny To Enter.

Daytime Sleep Is A Cursed Slumber From Which One Wakes In Despair.

I Feel Half Faded Away Like Some Figure In The Background Of An Old Picture.

The Sin Of Pride May Be A Small Or A Great Thing In Someone's Life, And Hurt Vanity A Passing Pinprick, Or A Self-destroying Or Ever Murderous Obsession.