Like a cat I have nine times to die.

Outcast on a cold star, unable to feel anything but an awful helpless numbness. I look down into the warm, earthy world. Into a nest of lovers' beds, baby cribs, meal tables, all the solid commerce of life in this earth, and feel apart, enclosed in a wall of glass.

I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.

Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.

Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.

In a rabbit-fear I may hurl myself under the wheels of the car because the lights terrify me, and under the dark blind death of wheels I will be safe. I am very tired, very banal, very confused. I do not know who I am tonight. I wanted to walk until I dropped and not complete the inevitable circle of coming home.

I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow.