It Never Occurred To Me

Here I Am, A Bundle Of Past Recollections And Future Dreams, Knotted Up In A Reasonably Attractive Bundle Of Flesh. I Remember What This Flesh Has Gone Through; I Dream Of What It May Go Through.

I Wish You’d Find The Exit Out Of My Head.

Winter Dawn Is The Color Of Metal, The Trees Stiffen Into Place Like Burnt Nerves.

I Get Into A Rut, Unable To Yank My Mind Out Of It.

Dancing Is The Normal Prelude To Intercourse.