I Get Into A Rut,

I Wanted To Tell Her That If Only Something Were Wrong With My Body It Would Be Fine, I Would Rather Have Anything Wrong With My Body Than Something Wrong With My Head, But The Idea Seemed So Involved And Wearisome That I Didn’t Say Anything. I Only Burrowed Down Further In The Bed.

I Had Been Alone More Than I Could Have Been Had I Gone By Myself.

This Is The Light Of The Mind, Cold And Planetary. The Trees Of The Mind Are Black. The Light Is Blue.

God, How I Ricochet Between Certainties And Doubts.

I Have Stitched Life Into Me Like A Rare Organ