I am the beast at the end of the rope.

Death is my lover and he wants to move in.

She's talking about herself in the third person because the idea of being who she is, of acknowledging that she is herself, is more than her pride can take.

You get mixed messages because I have mixed feelings.

I dread the loss of her I've never touched love keeps me a slave in a cage of tears I gnaw my tongue with which to her I can never speak I miss a woman who was never born I kiss a woman across the years that say we shall never meet Everything passes Everything perishes Everything palls my thought walks away with a killing smile leaving discordant anxiety which roars in my soul No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope No hope

Please. Don’t switch off my mind by attempting to straighten me out. Listen and understand, and when you feel contempt don’t express it, at least not verbally, at least not to me.

No one survives life.