The Box Is Only Temporary.

I Have Suffered The Atrocity Of Sunsets.

I Am I-i Am Powerful, But To What Extent? I Am I.

Is There No Way Out Of The Mind?

What I Want Back Is What I Was Before The Bed, Before The Knife, Before The Brooch-pin And The Salve Fixed Me In This Parenthesis; Horses Fluent In The Wind, A Place, A Time Gone Out Of Mind.

It Is A Terrible Thing To Be So Open: It Is As If My Heart Put On A Face And Walked Into The World.