Is Anyone Anywhere Happy?

I’ll Never Speak To God Again.

If You Dissect A Bird / To Diagram The Tongue, / You'll Cut The Chord / Articulating Song.

Love Is The Bone And Sinew Of My Curse.

She Stared At Her Reflection In The Glossed Shop Windows As If To Make Sure, Moment By Moment, That She Continued To Exist.

Look At That Ugly Dead Mask Here And Do Not Forget It. It Is A Chalk Mask With Dead Dry Poison Behind It, Like The Death Angel. It Is What I Was This Fall, And What I Never Want To Be Again. The Pouting Disconsolate Mouth, The Flat, Bored, Numb, Expressionless Eyes: Symptoms Of The Foul Decay Within.