Poetry To Me Is Prayer.

Perhaps I Am No One. True, I Have A Body And I Cannot Escape From It. I Would Like To Fly Out Of My Head, But That Is Out Of The Question.

Do You Like Me?” No Answer. Silence Bounced, Fell Off His Tongue And Sat Between Us And Clogged My Throat. It Slaughtered My Trust. It Tore Cigarettes Out Of My Mouth. We Exchanged Blind Words, And I Did Not Cry, I Did Not Beg, But Blackness Filled My Ears, Blackness Lunged In My Heart, And Something That Had Been Good, A Sort Of Kindly Oxygen, Turned Into A Gas Oven.

I Was Spread Out Dailyand Examined For Flaws.

I Am Your Dwarf. I Am The Enemy Within. I Am The Boss Of Your Dreams. See. Your Hand Shakes. It Is Not Palsy Or Booze. It Is Your Doppelganger Trying To Get Out. Beware...beware...

Oh, Darling, Let Your Body In, Let It Tie You In, In Comfort.