The Place I Live In

Take A Woman Talking, Purging Herself With Rhymes, Drumming Words Out Like A Typewriter, Planting Words In You Like Grass Seed. You'll Move Off.

Our Eyes Are Full Of Terrible Confessions.

The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was As Full As A Clothes Closet Of Dresses That Did Not Fit.

I Am In My Own Mind. I Am Locked In The Wrong House.

My Death From The Wrists, Two Name Tags, Blood Worn Like A Corsage To Bloom One On The Left And One On The Right.