I think about death. I think about it all the time. I wonder what it would be like if death wasn’t just a state of being, but an actual being, and what I would say if I could sit down and talk to it. Why do you come around when you’re not wanted? Why won’t you come round when u are desperately needed? Do you have a 800 number or a help desk. Why the fuck not? Because I am this great,

Unstable

Mass of blood and stone

And no emotion that’s worth having

Has settled in my bones

My heart is an autoclave