Here I Am And There Is My

I Crave White On White And Black, But My Thoughts Race In Glorious Technicolour, Prodding Me Awake, Whipping Away The Warm Blanket Of Invisibility Every Time It Sears To Smother My Mind In Nothing.

No Boy Is Worth Crying Over, And The One Who Is Won't Make You Cry.

I Love You Still, Against My Will.

It Is Myself I Have Never Met Whose Face Is Pasted On The Underside Of My Mind

I Don’t Have Music, Christ I Wish I Had Music But All I Have Is Words.