I get into a rut, unable to yank my mind out of it.

So I kiss him, and there is the great dark sea ahead.

I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.

My flesh winced, in cowardice, from such a death.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

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

Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.