Death Is My Lover And He Wants

I Crave White On White And Black, But My Thoughts Race In Glorious Technicolour, Prodding Me Awake, Whipping Away The Warm Blanket Of Invisibility Every Time It Sears To Smother My Mind In Nothing.

What I Sometimes Mistake For Ecstasy Is Simply The Absence Of Grief.

A Small Girl Became Increasingly Paralysed By Her Parents' Frequently Violent Rows. Sometimes She Would Spend Hours Standing Completely Still In The Toilet, Simply Because That Was Where She Happened To Be When The Fight Began. Finally, In Moments Of Calm, She Would Take Bottles Of Milk From The Fridge Or Doorstep And Leave Them In Places Where She May Later Become Trapped. Her Parents Were Unable To Understand Why They Found Bottles Of Sour Milk In Every Room In The House.

You’ll Be All Right. You’re Strong. I Know You’ll Be Okay Because I Like You And You Can’t Like Someone Who Doesn’t Like Themself. The People I Fear For Are The Ones Who I Don’t Like Because They Hate Themselves So Much They Won’t Let Anyone Else Like Them Either. But I Do Like You. I’ll Miss You. And I Know You’ll Be Okay.

Of Course I Loved You, You Saved My Life. I Wish You Hadn’t I Wish You Hadn’t I Wish You’d Left Me Alone.