I Am Disabused Of All Faith, And

This Is The Light Of The Mind, Cold And Planetary. The Trees Of The Mind Are Black. The Light Is Blue.

Let Me Sit In A Flowerpot, The Spiders Won't Notice. My Heart Is A Stopped Geranium.

All I Want Is Blackness. Blackness And Silence.

The Silence Between Us Was So Profound I Thought Part Of It Must Be My Fault.

I Am Terrified By This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me; All Day I Feel Its Soft, Feathery Turnings, Its Malignity.