I Don't Think I Write Well -

Why Should I Let The Toad Work Squat On My Life? Can't I Use My Wit As A Pitchfork And Drive The Brute Off? Six Days Of The Week It Soils With Its Sickening Poison-- Just For Paying A Few Bills! That's Out Of Proportion.

Joy Is For The Simple Or The Great To Feel, Neither Of Which We Are.

All The Unhurried Day / Your Mind Lay Open Like A Drawer Of Knives.

... Everyone Young Going Down The Long Slide To Happiness, Endlessly.

Death: The Anaesthetic From Which None Come Round.