A Ring Of Gold With The Sun

The Moon Has Nothing To Be Sad About, Staring From Her Hood Of Bone. She Is Used To This Sort Of Thing. Her Blacks Crackle And Drag.

I Am Dead To Them, Even Though I Once Flowered.

I Can't Be Satisfied With The Colossal Job Of Merely Living.

I Love Life. But It Is Hard And I Have So Much, So Very Much To Learn.

There I Went Again, Building Up A Glamorous Picture Of A Man Who Would Love Me Passionately The Minute He Met Me, And All Out Of A Few Prosy Nothings.