Dying Is An Art, Like Everything Else.

I've Eaten A Bag Of Green Apples. Boarded The Train, There's No Getting Off

I Am Sure There Are Things That Can't Be Cured By A Good Bath But I Can't Think Of One.

The Future Is What Matters — Because One Never Reaches It, But Always Stays In The Present — Like The White Queen Who Had To Run Like The Wind To Remain In The Same Spot.

Bright Beads Of Red Are Rising Through The Ink, Hearts-blood Bubbles Smearing Out Into The Black Stream

I Didn’t Want Any Flowers, I Only Wanted To Lie With My Hands Turned Up And Be Utterly Empty. How Free It Is, You Have No Idea How Free.