Thinking in terms of one
Is easily done—
One room, one bed, one chair,
One person there,
Makes perfect sense; one set

consciousness until the next morni
discover that I had been ruined, a
and cried like a child to be kille
Even so distant, I can taste the
Bitter and sharp with stalks, he m

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:

Strange to know nothing, never to
Of what is true or right or real,
But forced to qualify or so I fee
Or Well, it does seem so:
Someone must know.