Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.

My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right.

If I could blame it on all the mothers and fathers of the world, they of the lessons, the pellets of power, they of the love surrounding you like batter ... Blame it on God perhaps? He of the first opening that pushed us all into our first mistakes? No, I'll blame it on Man For Man is God and man is eating the earth up like a candy bar and not one of them can be left alone with the ocean for it is known he will gulp it all down. The stars (possibly) are safe. At least for the moment. The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.

being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions

Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.

women are born twice.

The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.