Sometimes The Soul Takes Pictures Of Things

Depression Is Boring, I Think And I Would Do Better To Make Some Soup And Light Up The Cave.

I Would Like To Bury All The Hating Eyes Under The Sand Somewhere.

Sometimes I Fly Like An Eagle But With The Wings Of A Wren

The Man Inside Of Woman Ties A Knot So That They Will Never Again Be Separate.

Do You Like Me?” No Answer. Silence Bounced, Fell Off His Tongue And Sat Between Us And Clogged My Throat. It Slaughtered My Trust. It Tore Cigarettes Out Of My Mouth. We Exchanged Blind Words, And I Did Not Cry, I Did Not Beg, But Blackness Filled My Ears, Blackness Lunged In My Heart, And Something That Had Been Good, A Sort Of Kindly Oxygen, Turned Into A Gas Oven.