I Must Get My Soul

The Silence Drew Off, Baring The Pebbles And Shells And All The Tatty Wreckage Of My Life.

My Mother Said The Cure For Thinking Too Much About Yourself Was Helping Somebody Who Was Worse Off Than You.

In Spite Of Everything, I Still Have My Good Old Sense Of Humor.

Please, I Want So Badly For The Good Things To Happen.

The Sickness Rolled Through Me In Great Waves. After Each Wave It Would Fade Away And Leave Me Limp As A Wet Leaf And Shivering All Over And Then I Would Feel It Rising Up In Me Again, And The Glittering White Torture Chamber Tiles Under My Feet And Over My Head And All Four Sides Closed In And Squeezed Me To Pieces.