Death May Whiten In Sun Or Out

They Had To Call And Call And Pick The Worms Off Me Like Sticky Pearls.

I Didn't Really See Why People Should Look At Me. Plenty Of People Looked Queerer Than I Did.

You Ask Me Why I Spend My Life Writing? Do I Find Entertainment? Is It Worthwhile? Above All, Does It Pay? If Not, Then, Is There A Reason?... I Write Only Because There Is A Voice Within Me. That Will Not Be Still.

I Feel Self-repressed Again. The Old Fall Disease. Where Is My Willpower? The Idea Of A Life Gets In The Way Of My Life...i Dream Too Much, Work Too Little.

Kiss Me And You Will See How Important I Am.