A Skeptic, I Would Ask For Consistency

People Or Stars Regard Me Sadly, I Disappoint Them.

Oh What A Poet I Will Flay Myself Into.

I Do Not Love; I Do Not Love Anybody Except Myself. That Is A Rather Shocking Thing To Admit.

We Stayed At Home To Write, To Consolidate Our Outstretched Selves.

I Think I Am Mad Sometimes.