Yes I Try To Kill Myself In

Despite My Asbestos Gloves, The Cough Is Filling Me With Black, And A Red Powder Seeps Through My Veins.

Well, One Gets Out Of Bed And The Planets Don't Always Hiss Or Muck Up The Day, Each Day.

I See Myself As One Would See Another. I Have Been Cut In Two.

I Wonder If The Artist Ever Lives His Life--he Is So Busy Recreating It.

Jewels! Today Each Twig Is Important, Each Ring, Each Infection, Each Form Is All That The Gods Must Have Meant.