Writing. Love Is Writing.

There Must Be Real Gods See, The Painted Gods How Fair!

When The Shingles Hissed In The Rain Incendiary, Other Values Were Revealed To Us

My Eye-balls Are Glass, My Limbs Marble, My Face Fixed In Its Marble Mask.

Love That I Bear Within My Breast How Is My Armour Melted How My Heart

The Quivering Of Psyche's Butterflies.