God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.
I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.
The day I went into physics class it was death.
They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.
Can a selfish egocentric jealous and unimaginative female write a damn thing worthwhile?