I Love The People,' I

I Am Made, Crudely, For Success.

I Dream Too Much, Work Too Little.

I Could Feel The Winter Shaking My Bones And Banging My Teeth Together.

Backward We Traveled To Reclaim The Day Before We Fell, Like Icarus, Undone; All We Find Are Altars In Decay And Profane Words Scrawled Black Across The Sun.

I Do Not Love; I Do Not Love Anybody Except Myself. That Is A Rather Shocking Thing To Admit.