We Have A Society Where Every Hit

People With Hiv Are Still Stigmatized. The Infection Rates Are Going Up. People Are Dying. The Political Response Is Appalling. The Sadness Of It, The Waste.

Shock Waves To A Tired Brain, Sends That Hungry Lady To My Door Again. She's My Shelter From The Storm When I Feel The Rain, Entertaining White Powder.

When A Rumor Doesn't Go Away It's Not A Rumor

I Tried To Commit Suicide One Day. It Was A Very Woody Allen-type Suicide. I Turned On The Gas And Left All The Windows Open.

Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me.