She Burns Her Wrists

(Written in a blackout)

And I'm here, burnt against the wind with the beauty and peeling orange against my skin and my cheeks and the urgency on my part and it is all closed and I wish to die and to be home in my sewers-- the sewers of the city, dead, dead, dead and away from all this smell and all this wine and the horrible choke and sweat of it all. I long to be gone, gone, gone and to hug GoldenFinch and drench her in my tears...

Later...

Oh God, help me please. I can't see except for the blacking sun and my wrist burns and burns and I want to vomit, but I can't because all I see is the black, oily sea and I need you, God! I need you!

Let me escape and drown... Oh God, give me the courage to deny the seagull and jump. I want to jump.

(Forgive me, Daddy.)