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I can feel this heart inside me and I conclude it exists. I can touch this world and I also conclude that it exists. All my knowledge ends at this point. The rest is hypothesis.

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I never liked the ending either. More love streaming out the wrong way, and I don’t want to be the kind that says “the wrong way”. But it doesn’t work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats.
There were some nice parts, sure, all lemondrop and mellonball, laughing in silk pajamas and grains of sugar on the toast, love love or whatever, take a number. I’m sorry it’s such a lousy story. ~Richard Siken, Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out (via trouble-speak)
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