I suppose one sees mirror images all the time if one survives on cocaine. Even if there aren’t any mirrors around.
While I was tempted to flee the bar, a niggling sense of responsibility held me to my seat. It pinned me right down. Right at the knife edged precipice of the yawning chasm of obligation.
You can damn a dead man, but you can’t charge him with manslaughter.
It’s amazing, isn’t it?
Aren’t creativity and insanity two sides of the same coin?
Today, she has lavender irises of a serene woman, one secure in the comfort of not remembering, exempt from the punishment of knowing.
An oddly peculiar feeling.
I’m not laughing.
I thought my demons were almost defeated but you took their side and you pulled them to freedom.