I Have No Wisdom And

Is There An Existence That Is Only Mine?

But When I Don't Smoke I Scarcely Feel As If I'm Living. I Don't Feel As If I'm Living Unless I'm Killing Myself.

My Generation Was Somewhat Between Things, Neither Free Nor Much Supported By Whatever Held Us In.

The Things That Matter Don't Necessarily Make Sense.

Time's Arrow, We Are Told, Is A One-way Thing. . . Memory's Arrow, Like The Needle Of A Compass Too Close To A Lodestone, Spins In All Directions.