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The Black Pen
Scott Allen
Explosion ...
Love is impossible except when you are in love.
"Don't you want to discover something?"
"Yes, I do, as long as I don't have to change."
Impossible, that is what it is being, doing, having, wanting desire.
The need for forever, the wish for better.
Lost, losing, getting, a loss.
There was music behind them.
Is there anything to the motion of traffic? The uncertain destination of cars.
It is the same for everybody, except you, me.
Hope is endless, not continuous.
True writing is without inspiration, yet the only way to lift the pen is with it.
... the patient wait when there is nothing else to wait for.
Is anything meant to be? I certainly wasn't. This cup in front of me, the table it is on, the room I'm in, the couch, the picture on the wall, the outside, the sounds coming from outside, the day and everything and so on...
It was like a roller coaster, not just up and down, but with twists and turns, and sometimes, straight away.
Sometimes you can see the future. It is so far off that you are not sure if that is what you saw, but, in some way, you know it was. That is all you can expect to see of it.
A new region to live, build, grow, construct, tear down.
Acknowledgments, reminders, destinies.
A book is about now, just then.
Why do they remain alone? ... I almost had it.
Listen. All I have to do is listen.
It takes time to be good. It comes and goes.
Is there a language other than language? The question of music.
A moment (un)like any other.
"Why would you want someone to read this?" "I honest