The beating of her neighbor's heart
upstairs keeps her awake
all night
We don't learn
she thinks
we remember
If we're lucky
Now she is going to put on some
nice cut-your-wrists-music
"Most of the poetry I read
makes me feel like I'm already dead"
And look everything is turning
into something else
(and that is true)
Risperdal whisperdoll
all alone in the dark
garden
blowing out a dandeloin