Next Week, Or Next Month, Or Next

I Often Want To Cry. That Is The Only Advantage Women Have Over Men — At Least They Can Cry.

As Soon As I Turned The Key I Saw It Hanging, The Color Of Fire And Sunset. The Colour Of Flamboyant Flowers. ‘if You Are Buried Under A Flamboyant Tree, ‘ I Said, ‘your Soul Is Lifted Up When It Flowers. Everyone Wants That.’ She Shook Her Head But She Did Not Move Or Touch Me.

A Room? A Nice Room? A Beautiful Room? A Beautiful Room With Bath? Swing High, Swing Low, Swing To And Fro...this Happened And That Happened... And Then The Days Came And I Was Alone.

...morbidly, Attracted Him To Strangeness, To Recklessnesss, Even Unhappiness.

I've Been So Ridiculous All My Life That A Little Bit More Or A Little Bit Less Hardly Matters Now.