Have You Made Any Plans? Take An

Death Is My Lover And He Wants To Move In.

She's Talking About Herself In The Third Person Because The Idea Of Being Who She Is, Of Acknowledging That She Is Herself, Is More Than Her Pride Can Take.

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.

It Is Myself I Have Never Met Whose Face Is Pasted On The Underside Of My Mind

Here I Am And There Is My Body Dancing On Glass.