I Don’t Have Music, Christ I Wish

Here I Am And There Is My Body Dancing On Glass In Accident Time Where There Are No Accidents You Have No Choice The Choice Comes After

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.

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

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.