Before I Give My Body, I Must

The Blood Of Love Welled Up In My Heart With A Slow Pain.

Cold Glass, How You Insert Yourself Between Myself And Myself. I Scratch Like A Cat. The Blood That Runs Is Dark Fruit- An Effect, A Cosmetic. You Smile. No, It Is Not Fatal.

I Smile, Now, Thinking: We All Like To Think We Are Important Enough To Need Psychiatrists

But When It Came Right Down To It, The Skin Of My Wrist Looked So White And Defenseless That I Couldn't Do It.

The Truth Comes To Me. The Truth Loves Me.