I Can't Talk You In

I Wrote At The Start That This Was A Record Of Hate, And Walking There Beside Henry Towards The Evening Glass Of Beer, I Found The One Prayer That Seemed To Serve The Winter Mood: O God, You've Done Enough, You've Robbed Me Of Enough, I'm Too Tired And Old To Learn To Love, Leave Me Alone Forever.

Perhaps The Comparison Is Closer To The Chinese Cook Who Leaves Hardly Any Part Of A Duck Unserved.

I Can Never Think Of You As A Friend. You Can Do Without A Friend.

They Think My Mother's Ashes Are Marijuana.

I Aim To Be Content With What I Produce. It's An Aim I Never Achieve, But I Go Over My Work Word By Word, Time And Again, So As To Be As Little Dissatisfied As Possible.