I Was Spread Out Dailyand Examined For

Death, I Need My Little Addiction To You. I Need That Tiny Voice Who, Even As I Rise From The Sea, All Woman, All There, Says Kill Me, Kill Me.

I Hoard Books. They Are People Who Do Not Leave.

It's All A Matter Of History. Brandy Is No Solace. Librium Only Lies Me Down Like A Dead Snow Queen. Yes! I Am Still The Criminal.

Now I Am Going Back And I Have Ripped My Hand From Your Hand As I Said I Would And I Have Made It This Far.

The Fish Are Naked. The Fish Are Always Awake. They Are The Color Of Old Spoons And Caramels.