I'm doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.

The one man in the room who was as big as his poems, huge, with hulk and dynamic chunks of words.

I am still raw. I say I may be back. You know what lies are for. Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.

I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horror and fear of the cement tunnels leading down to the shock room, to comfort me with an assurance that no psychiatrist can quite manage to convey.

People or stars Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.

Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those.