| Dining with Mood ...cuz i'm sooty with lonely and my face is a mess and i dance with the gothic whores and i'm dining with mood my plate became empty and the black screaming threads ripped out of my needle and i cannot define in the fading, anything solid fallings of poetry of where and who the fuck am i in wintered stream she freezes whispy as wheat needy as a seedling and black as the day shalome � 2005 |