I Began To Measure Things

I Am Often Drawn To What Appear At First To Be 'dark' Or 'difficult' Subjects, But Which, Upon Further Examination, Are Always And Only Reflections Of The Ways Human Beings Attempt, However Clumsily, Badly, Or Well, To Connect With Others.

You Wake Up One Morning And There It Is, Sitting In An Old Plaid Bathrobe In Your Kitchen, Unpleasant And Unshaved. You Look At It, Heart Sinking. Madness Is A Rotten Guest.

Crazy Isn´t Always What They Say It Is. It´s Not Always The Old Woman Wearing Sneakers And A Skirt And A Scarf, Wandering Around With A Shopping Cart, Hollering At No One, Nothing, Tumbling Through Years In Her Head. No. Sometimes It Is A Girl Wearing Boots And Jeans And A Sweater, Arms Crossed In Front Of Her, Shivering, Wandering Through The Streets At Night, All Night, Murmuring To No One, Nothing, Tumbling Through The Strange Unreal Dimensions In Her Head.

...painfully Curious...about How It Feels To Fall.

I Either Want To Be Completely Recovered Or Completely Emaciated. It's The In Between That I Can't Stand, The Limbo Of Failure Where You Know That You Haven't Done Your Best At One Or The Other: Dying Or Living.