Some Tiny Creature, Mad With

There Was A Young Lady Named Mae Who Smoked Without Stopping All Day; As Pack Followed Pack, Her Lungs First Turned Black, And Eventually Rotted Away.

The Suicide, As She Is Falling, Illuminated By The Moon, Regrets Her Act, And Finds Appalling The Thought She Will Be Dead So Soon.

The World May Think It Idiotic, Nor Care At All We're Symbiotic, But I Will Say At Once And Twice: I Find It Nice. I Find It Nice.

All The Things You Can Talk About In Anyone's Work Are The Things That Are Least Important.... You Can Describe All The Externals Of A Performance - Everything, In Fact, But What Really Constitutes Its Core. Explaining Something Makes It Go Away, So To Speak; What's Important Is What's Left Over After You've Explained Everything Else.

I Feel That I Am Doing The Minimum Amount Of Damage To Other Possibilities That May Take Place In A Reader's Head.