The Biggest Fear Of My Life Is

...painfully Curious...about How It Feels To Fall.

People Take The Feeling Of Full For Granted.

One Really Ought To Be Afraid Of Self-torture. But It Tempted Me. It Begged. The Dark Place That My Mind Was Fast Becoming Blends, In My Memory, With The Dark Womb Of Church: The Chant, The Fugue Of Prayer, The Strange Erotic Energy That Carving A Very Small Cross Into My Thigh With A Nail Had Brought.

I Have Not Lost My Fascination With Death. I Have Not Become A Noticeably Less Intense Person. I Have Not, Nor Will I Ever, Completely Lose The Longing For That Something, That Thing That I Believe Will Fill An Emptiness Inside Me. I Do Believe That The Emptiness Was Made Greater By The Things That I Did To Myself.

We Were At Another Funeral Party. I Wasn’t Sure Who Had Died This Time, But It Was A Suicide, And Upsetting Because It Was Completely Out Of Season. No On Killed Themselves In Summertime. It Was Rude.