Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.
Love your self's self where it lives.
Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
Images are the heart of poetry ... You're not a poet without imagery.
Rejoice with the day lily for it is born for a day to live by the mailbox and glorify the roadside
Rats live on no evil star