All Considerations For These Human Remains! They

The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was As Full As A Clothes Closet Of Dresses That Did Not Fit.

Bless All Useful Objects, The Spoons Made Of Bone, The Mattress I Cook My Dreams Upon, The Typewriter That Is My Church With An Altar Of Keys Always Waiting.

I Am Stuffing Your Mouth With Your Promises And Watching You Vomit Them Out Upon My Face.

Come, My Pretender, My Fritter, My Bubbler, My Chicken Biddy! Oh Succulent One, It Is But One Turn In The Road And I Would Be A Cannibal!

You Who Have Inhabited Me In The Deepest And Most Broken Place, Are Going, Going