Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.

The joy that isn't shared dies young.

The grass as bristly and stout as chives and me wondering when the ground will break and me wondering how anything fragile survives

Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.

Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.

The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.

sorrow is easier than guilt.