I Hurl My Heart To Halt His

I Said: I Must Remember This, Being Small.

Everything In Life Is Writable.

To The Person In The Bell Jar, Blank And Stopped As A Dead Baby, The World Itself Is A Bad Dream.

I Thought How Strange It Had Never Occurred To Me Before That I Was Only Purely Happy Until I Was Nine Years Old.

I Am So Hungry For A Big Smashing Creative Burgeoning Burdened Love.