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

I wish you’d find the exit out of my head.

Why the hell are we conditioned into the smooth strawberry-and-cream Mother-Goose-world, Alice-in-Wonderland fable, only to be broken on the wheel as we grow older and become aware of ourselves as individuals with a dull responsibility in life?

God, if ever I have come close to wanting to commit suicide, it is now, with the groggy sleepless blood dragging through my veins, and the air thick and gray with rain ... I fell into bed again this morning, begging for sleep, withdrawing into the dark, warm, fetid escape from action, from responsibility. No good.

I suppose if I gave myself the chance I could be an alcoholic.

Beached under the spumy blooms, we lie Sea-sick and fever-dry.

Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person