What Do I Want? The

I Lift My Arm Out Of The Water. It's A Log. Put It Back Under And It Blows Up Even Bigger. People See The Log And Call It A Twig. They Yell At Me Because I Can't See What They See. Nobody Can Explain To Me Why My Eyes Work Different Than Theirs. Nobody Can Make It Stop.

In One Universe, They Are Gorgeous, Straight-teethed, Long-legged, Wrapped In Designer Fashions, And Given Sports Cars On Their Sixteenth Birthdays. Teacher Smile At Them And Grade Them On The Curve. They Know The First Names Of The Staff. They Are The Pride Of The Trojans. Oops – I Mean Pride Of The Blue Devils. In Universe #2, They Throw Parties Wild Enough To Attract College Students. They Worship The Stink Of Eau De Jocque. They Rent Beach Houses In Cancún During Spring Break And Get Group-rate Abortions Before Prom.

Oppressive Bastards, Think They Own The Place. I Told Them That Karma's Going To Kick Their Asses.

I Can See Us, Living In The Woods, Her Wearing That A, Me With A S Maybe, S For Silent, S For Stupid, For Scared. S For Silly. For Shame.

Nothing Is Perfect. Flaws Are Interesting. Be The Tree.