... A Starving Man Doesn't Ask What

We Talked Death With Burned-up Intensity, Both Of Us Drawn To It Like Moths To An Electric Light Bulb. Sucking On It!

Death, I Need My Little Addiction To You. I Need That Tiny Voice Who, Even As I Rise From The Sea, All Woman, All There, Says Kill Me, Kill Me.

Some Women Marry Houses. It's Another Kind Of Skin; It Has A Heart, A Mouth, A Liver And Bowel Movements.

I Am In My Own Mind. I Am Locked In The Wrong House.

So I Won't Hang Around In My Hospital Shift, Repeating The Black Mass And All Of It. I Say Live, Live Because Of The Sun, The Dream, The Excitable Gift.