It Is Awful To Want To Go

If You Dissect A Bird / To Diagram The Tongue, / You'll Cut The Chord / Articulating Song.

Mother Of Otherness, Eat Me.

Your Body Hurts Me As The World Hurts God

I Have This Demon Who Wants Me To Run Away Screaming If I Am Going To Be Flawed, Fallible. It Wants Me To Think I'm So Good I Must Be Perfect. Or Nothing. I Am, On The Contrary, Something: A Being Who Gets Tired, Has Shyness To Fight, Has More Trouble Than Most Facing People Easily.

There Is So Much Hurt In This Game Of Searching For A Mate, Of Testing, Trying. And You Realize Suddenly That You Forgot It Was A Game, And Turn Away In Tears.