we walk the plank with strangers.

There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.

If you pluck out my heart To find what makes it move, You’ll halt the clock That syncopates our love.

I am afraid. I am not solid, but hollow. I feel behind my eyes a numb, paralyzed cavern, a pit of hell, a mimicking nothingness.

I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.

I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.

Let me not be weak and tell others how bleeding I am internally; how day by day it drips, and gathers, and congeals.