I had been alone more than I could have been had I gone by myself.

It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.

And there's the fallacy of existence: the idea that one could be happy forever and age with a given situation or series of accomplishments.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.

Why do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled “enemy?