Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.

…I hate myself for not being able to go downstairs naturally and seek comfort in numbers. I hate myself for having to sit here and be torn between I know not what within me.

I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!

Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.

I think I am mad sometimes.

It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac, A palace of velvet With windows of mirrors. There one is safe, There are no family photographs, No rings through the nose, no cries.

No day is safe from news of you.