No One To Hate Except The Slim

Take Your Foot Out Of The Graveyard, They Are Busy Being Dead.

... And My Love Stays Bitterly Glowing, Spasms Of It Will Not Sleep, And I Am Helpless And Thirsty And Need Shade But There Is No One To Cover Me- Not Even God.

I Am Tearing The Feathers Out Of The Pillows, Waiting, Waiting For Daddy To Come Home And Stuff Me So Full Of Our Infected Child That I Turn Invisible, But Married, At Last.

Oh Sharp Diamond, My Mother! I Could Not Count The Cost Of All Your Faces, Your Moods That Present That I Lost. Sweet Girl, My Deathbed, My Jewel-fingered Lady...

Today Is Made Of Yesterday, Each Time I Steal Toward Rites I Do Not Know, Waiting For The Lost Ingredient, As If Salt Or Money Or Even Lust Would Keep Us Calm And Prove Us Whole At Last.