You Are So Intense. Like A Storm.

You Were Just A Boy On A Bed In A Room, Like A Kaleidoscope Is A Tube Full Of Bits Of Broken Glass. But The Way I Saw You Was Pieces Refracting The Light, Shifting Into An Infinite Universe Of Flowers And Rainbows And Insects And Planets, Magical Dividing Cells, Pictures No One Else Knew.

What Sexual Preference Do You Hope She Has?” “happiness.” Isnt That Cool?

She Was No Longer A Slow Dreamer Watching The Flowers Grow. She Was A Warrior Now. Warriors Need Something To Fight For Though, Beside Their Lives, Because Otherwise Their Lives Will Not Be Worth It.

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.

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