All In All, I'd Say, The World

I Find Now, Swallowing One Teaspoon Of Pain, That It Drops Downward To The Past Where It Mixes With Last Year’s Cupful And Downward Into A Decade’s Quart And Downward Into A Lifetime’s Ocean. I Alternate Treading Water And Deadman’s Float.

Maybe I Am Becoming A Hermit, Opening The Door For Only A Few Special Animals? Maybe My Skull Is Too Crowded And It Has No Opening Through Which To Feed It Soup?

To Die Whole, Riddled With Nothing But Desire For It, Is Like Breakfast After Love.

Emerald As Heavy As A Golf Course, Ruby As Dark As An Afterbirth, Diamond As White As Sun On The Sea.

I Rot On The Wall, My Own Dorian Gray.