I Began To Think Vodka Was My

I Felt The First Man I Slept With Must Be Intelligent, So I Could Respect Him.

I Need Some Older, Wiser Being To Cry To. I Talk To God, But The Sky Is Empty, And Orion Walks By And Doesn't Speak.

The Sickness Rolled Through Me In Great Waves. After Each Wave It Would Fade Away And Leave Me Limp As A Wet Leaf And Shivering All Over And Then I Would Feel It Rising Up In Me Again, And The Glittering White Torture Chamber Tiles Under My Feet And Over My Head And All Four Sides Closed In And Squeezed Me To Pieces.

So Much Working, Reading, Thinking, Living To Do! A Lifetime Is Not Long Enough.

What Is So Real As The Cry Of A Child?