The Man Inside Of Woman Ties A

To Die Whole, Riddled With Nothing But Desire For It, Is Like Breakfast After Love.

Yet Love Enters My Blood Like An I.v., Dripping In Its Little White Moments.

Let There Be Seasons So That Our Tongues Will Be Rich In Asparagus And Limes.

And We Are Magic Talking To Itself, Noisy And Alone. I Am Queen Of All My Sins Forgotten. Am I Still Lost? Once I Was Beautiful. Now I Am Myself

Maybe, Although My Heart Is A Kitten Of Butter, I Am Blowing It Up Like A Zeppelin.