Doubt has been my mortal enemy. Only one of us is actually mortal, and it isn’t me. In the pangs of horror or the sublime vestibule of bliss, there will be no room for doubt. My sister canoes up the Mississippi toward the cold, clean, clear. In the driver’s seat of my life, a three eyed monster with a palpable disdain for my happiness. I am certain tomorrow will rain diamonds, and Ambiguity will have his day in the lime light, finding his religion. Doubt trails me like Death, and even Death is annoyed with him and butts his head into walls like an unwanted kid brother. Death has no time for doubt.
Miniature Moon 