My Flesh Winced, In Cowardice, From Such

When They Asked Me What I Wanted To Be I Said I Didn’t Know. "oh, Sure You Know," The Photographer Said. "she Wants," Said Jay Cee Wittily, "to Be Everything.

I Want To Be Silverly Beautiful.

The Sheets Grow Heavy As A Lecher's Kiss.

Tomorrow I Will Curse The Dawn, But There Will Be Other, Earlier Nights, And The Dawns Will Be No Longer Hell Laid Out In Alarms And Raw Bells And Sirens.

What Did My Arms Do Before They Held You?