Rats Live On No Evil Star

I Am Out Of Practice At Living. You Are As Brave As A Motorcycle.

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

Once Upon A Time We Were All Born, Popped Out Like Jelly Rolls Forgetting Our Fishdom, The Pleasuring Seas, The Country Of Comfort, Spanked Into The Oxygens Of Death.

I Love The Word Warm. It Is Almost Unbearable-- So Moist And Breathlike.

I Lay There Silently, Hoarding My Small Dignity. I Did Not Ask About The Gate Or The Closet. I Did Not Question The Bedtime Ritual Where, On The Cold Bathroom Tiles, I Was Spread Out Daily And Examined For Flaws. I Did Not Know That My Bones, Those Solids, Those Pieces Of Sculpture Would Not Splinter.