If I Was Bound For

A Room Is, After All, A Place Where You Hide From The Wolves. That's All Any Room Is.

...morbidly, Attracted Him To Strangeness, To Recklessnesss, Even Unhappiness.

If I Was Bound For Hell, Let It Be Hell. No More False Heaven. No More Damned Magic.

It Was Like Letting Go And Falling Back Into Water And Seeing Yourself Grinning Up Through The Water, Your Face Like A Mask, And Seeing The Bubbles Coming Up As If You Were Trying To Speak From Under The Water. And How Do You Know What It's Like To Try To Speak From Under Water When You're Drowned?

I Must Write. If I Stop Writing My Life Will Have Been An Abject Failure. It Is That Already To Other People. But It Could Be An Abject Failure To Myself. I Will Not Have Earned Death.