"I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe" ~ Sir Philip Sidney

Share the Wealth by Hungry Ghosts Sharon, technically, Rose of Sharon, called harrowing as it was, at the bookstore after Lynn, technically, Jennifer Lynn regal, committed suicide, I bawled every human being makes their own choice theater of thaumatūrgus, before his resurrection from the dead, kingpin emerges triumphant, but she is gone Wealth is meaningless without friends, her voice emulated Lauren Bacall, smoky as cigars and cognac, a low timbre liquid oxygen to my ears, low-key theater of miracles, of wonder haunted by the cat in the box, at dawn burnt by the sun, undeserving, I fall yes, into confusion, my blood runs cold Haunted by hunting dogs, I am a stag until I understand, Erwin, I bawl nothing but narrow-minded people here given the world of hungry ghosts, I fold religious pamphlets to burn as a gag yes, they take this seriously, I laugh Ghosts are imaginary, as I fear hold hands with Jennifer after she cries only if I could have made her happy stil...

This is not a novel, let me repeat history cannot repeat itself, now is the flow of time a blockage, a dream stories tell a narrative of defeat is memory itself a memory sit in meditation, get up and bow no one else in the room, let out a scream others enter, full of concern, they care to say this life is but a reverie a waking dream, absorbed in the details nothing but the beautiful distractions observe how, in this world, history fails volumes written, no account transactions elbow my way through the room, do I dare let them say what they want, arms akimbo let me display authority, a joke even without a precedent, actions talk through the mushrooms and the trees, window timorous view, the wind communicates intentions before history, I poke my friend the bear to see the attractions every ride at the amusement park speaks repetitively, the bear hibernates each time I poke my friend, the bear, he cries perhaps he needs his sleep, his beauty rest each time I poke...