No Moon, Sun, Diamond, Hands — Fingertip,

My Paintings Are Well-painted, Not Nimbly But Patiently. My Painting Contains In It The Message Of Pain. I Think That At Least A Few People Are Interested In It. It's Not Revolutionary. Why Keep Wishing For It To Be Belligerent? I Can't. Painting Completed My Life. I Lost Three Children And A Series Of Other Things That Would Have Fulfilled My Horrible Life. My Painting Took The Place Of All Of This. I Think Work Is The Best.

You Loved A Man With More Hands Than A Parade Of Beggars, And Here You Stand. Heart Like A Four-poster Bed. Heart Like A Canvas. Heart Leaking Something So Strong They Can Smell It In The Street.”

I Used To Think I Was The Strangest Person In The World But Then I Thought There Are So Many People In The World, There Must Be Someone Just Like Me Who Feels Bizarre And Flawed In The Same Ways I Do. I Would Imagine Her, And Imagine That She Must Be Out There Thinking Of Me Too. Well, I Hope That If You Are Out There And Read This And Know That, Yes, It's True I'm Here, And I'm Just As Strange As You.

I Want A Storm To Come And Flood Us Into A Song That No One Wrote.

People In General Are Scared To Death Of The War And All The Exhibitions Have Been A Failure, Because The Rich Bitches Don't Want To Buy Anything.