My Mouth Blooms Like A Cut.

But My Future Is A Secret. / It Is As Shy As A Mole.

There Is Joy In All: In The Hair I Brush Each Morning, In The Cannon Towel, Newly Washed, That I Rub My Body With Each Morning.

[i] Have Fantasies Of Killing Myself And Thus Being The Powerful One Not The Powerless One.

Even So, I Must Admire Your Skill. You Are So Gracefully Insane.

Yes, I Know. Death Sits With His Key In My Lock. Not One Day Is Taken For Granted. Even Nursery Rhymes Have Put Me In Hock.