I Hope That Death Contains

They Looked As If Nothing Had Ever Touched Them--all Well-mothered, Protected, With A Soft Sheen Of Contentment. None Of Them Had Ever Been In Jail, Or Worked Hard With Their Hands, Or Even Gotten A Traffic Ticket. Skimmed-milk Jollies, The Whole Bunch.

The Best Often Die By Their Own Hand Just To Get Away, And Those Left Behind Can Never Quite Understand Why Anybody Would Ever Want To Get Away From Them

Sometimes I Get Too Exhausted To Even Feel Bad

I Was So Thin I Could Slice Bread With My Shoulderblades, Only I Seldom Had Bread.

I Often Stood In Front Of The Mirror Alone, Wondering How Ugly A Person Could Get.