The Chicken's Still Dancing The

I Love You Still, Against My Will.

I Crave White On White And Black, But My Thoughts Race In Glorious Technicolour, Prodding Me Awake, Whipping Away The Warm Blanket Of Invisibility Every Time It Sears To Smother My Mind In Nothing.

Death Is My Lover And He Wants To Move In.

Here I Am And There Is My Body Dancing On Glass.

I Am An Emotional Plagiarist, Stealing Other People's Pain, Subsuming It Into My Own Until I Can't Remember Whose It Is Any More.