I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.

Psychiatry is a dirty mirror.

I am so imperfect, can you love me when really my soul is deformed? Will you love me anyhow?

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

The Witch's Life" When I was a child there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day she peered from her second story window from behind the wrinkled curtains and sometimes she would open the window and yell: Get out of my life! She had hair like kelp and a voice like a boulder. I think of her sometimes now and wonder if I am becoming her.

As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.

And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself