The Chicken's Still Dancing The Chicken Won't

Your Hair Is An Act Of God.

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.

If You Died It Would Be Like My Bones Had Been Removed. No One Would Know Why, But I Would Collapse.

You’ll Be All Right. You’re Strong. I Know You’ll Be Okay Because I Like You And You Can’t Like Someone Who Doesn’t Like Themself. The People I Fear For Are The Ones Who I Don’t Like Because They Hate Themselves So Much They Won’t Let Anyone Else Like Them Either. But I Do Like You. I’ll Miss You. And I Know You’ll Be Okay.

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