that's not the kind of thing that washes away with the rain
too long, more minutes than miles
psychotic reaction, cradle me.
the schizophrenia springs from answers that don't comply with logic; the broken chair chair by the window holds my world together.
brought the fern back from the edge of death.
taking things night by night, and sometimes stacking them all up around my neck, auto-asphyxiation. the masochist sister to myself is pushing for incest. no no no no

to the cows and the honeyman.