My Hatred Gives Me Strength.

Oleander Time, She Said. Lovers Who Kill Each Other Now Will Blame It On The Wind.

My House Is Modern, But I Like My Writing Room To Be Old Fashioned. I Write On A Little Wooden Secretary Desk.

How Many People Ask You To Come Share Their Life?

You Can't Shape Me Anymore. I Am The Uncontrolled Element, The Random Act. I Am Forward Movement In Time. You Think You Can See Me? Then Tell Me, Who Am I? You Don't Know.

Although She Was Giddy With Exhaustion, Sleep Was A Lover Who Refused To Be Touched.