Thinking Of Death--strange, Beautiful, Terrible And A

Everything In The Least Connected With Him Has Value For Me; If Someone Even Mentions His Name It Is Like A Little Present To Me-and I Long To Mention It Myself

I Write This Sitting In The Kitchen Sink.

I Was Wandering Around As Usual, In My Unpleasantly Populated Sub-conscious.

And No Bathroom On Earth Will Make Up For Marrying A Bearded Man You Hate.

My Hand Is Very Tired But I Want To Go On Writing. I Keep Resting And Thinking. All Day I Have Been Two People - The Me Imprisoned In Yesterday And The Me Out Here On The Mound; And Now There Is A Third Me Trying To Get In - The Me In What Is Going To Happen Next.