As It Has Been Said: Love And

Oh Thumb, I Want A Drink It Is Dark, Where Are The Big People, When Will I Get There...?

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.

I Hoard Books. They Are People Who Do Not Leave.

I See Myself As One Would See Another. I Have Been Cut In Two.

Suicides Have A Special Language. Like Carpenters They Want To Know Which Tools. They Never Ask Why Build.