I Knew Every Raindrop By Its Name.

When We Were Arguing On My Twenty-fourth Birthday, She Left The Kitchen, Came Back With A Pistol, And Fired It At Me Five Times From Right Across The Table. But She Missed. It Wasn't My Life She Was After. It Was More. She Wanted To Eat My Heart And Be Lost In The Desert With What She'd Done, She Wanted To Fall On Her Knees And Give Birth From It, She Wanted To Hurt Me As Only A Child Can Be Hurt By Its Mother.

There Was A Part Of Her She Hadn’t Yet Allowed To Be Born Because It Was Too Beautiful For This Place

English Words Are Like Prisms. Empty, Nothing Inside, And Still They Make Rainbows.

That World! These Days It's All Been Erased And They've Rolled It Up Like A Scroll And Put It Away Somewhere. Yes, I Can Touch It With My Fingers. But Where Is It?

The Abyss Is Full Of Reality, The Abyss Experiences Itself, The Abyss Is Alive.