The Lawn Was White With Doctors

O Heart, Such Disorganization!

The Moon Has Nothing To Be Sad About, Staring From Her Hood Of Bone. She Is Used To This Sort Of Thing. Her Blacks Crackle And Drag.

Talking About My Fears To Others Feeds It.

After All, We Are Nothing More Or Less Than We Choose To Reveal.

I Said: I Must Remember This, Being Small.