The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.
I have stitched life into me like a rare organ
Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.
I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horror and fear of the cement tunnels leading down to the shock room, to comfort me with an assurance that no psychiatrist can quite manage to convey.
Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not writing, as the spirit moved me. It was, instead, running madly, in a crowded schedule, in a squirrel cage of busy people. Working, living, dancing, dreaming, talking, kissing- singing, laughing, learning.
I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.
How we need that security. How we need another soul to cling to, another body to keep us warm. To rest and trust; to give your soul in confidence: I need this. I need someone to pour myself into.
When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.
I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.
My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you.
We are not what we might be; what we are / Outlaws all extrapolation / Beyond the interval of now and here: / White whales are gone with the white ocean.
I don't know how long I kept at it..I felt reasonably safe, streched out on the floor, and lay quite still. It didn't seem to be summer any more
If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song.