Choose To Believe In Your Own Myth

I Love Sylvia Plath And Anne Sexton. I Also Love More Cerebral Poets Like H.d. And Emily Dickinson. My Parents Subscribed To A Monthly Poetry Periodical, And As A Teenager I Was Introduced To Denise Levertov, Who Was An Influence.

If Death Is Your Lover, You Don't Got To Be Afraid Ever That He Will Ever Leave You

I Will Be Thin And Pure Like A Glass Cup. Empty. Pure As Light. Music. I Move My Hands Over My Body - My Shoulders, My Collarbone, My Rib Cage, My Hip Bones Like Part Of An Animal Skull, My Small Thighs. In The Mirror My Face Is Pale And My Eyes Look Bruised. My Hair Is Pale And Thin And The Light Comes Through. I Could Be A Lot Younger Than Seventeen. I Could Be A Child Still, Untouched.

I Want To Be Untouchable And Beautiful And Completely Dead Inside.

Same Old Boring Boring Story America Can’t Stop Telling Itself. What Is This Sicko Fascination? Every Book And Movie Practically Has To Have A Little, Right? But Why Do You Think All Those Runaways Are On The Streets Tearing Up Their Veins With Junk And Selling Themselves So They Can Sleep In The Gutter? What Do You Think The Alternative Was At Home?