If You Dissect A Bird / To

A Psychiatrist Is The God Of Our Age. But They Cost Money.

Now I Am Silent, Hate Up To My Neck, Thick, Thick. I Do Not Speak.

I Am Flushed And Warm. I Think I May Be Enormous, I Am So Stupidly Happy, My Wellingtons Squelching And Squelching Through The Beautiful Red.

Let Me Live, Love And Say It Well In Good Sentences.

I Guess They Call It Suicide, But I'm To Full To Swallow My Pride I Can't Stand Losing You The Police Dying Is An Art, Like Everything Else. I Do It Exceptionally Well.