You almost gave me a heart-attack. Your beauty's so ugly you give me creeps. More even when you wear that thing. It's too pretty, can't you see it exalts your wrong?
And you are a liar. You said I'd be happy here but it's freezing and I'm dehydrating and the only water is the ice melting in that filthy corner and I'm writing about the way it first gathers, droplet after drop, then flows, which is a sad thing for me to do and it looks real weird till one realizes it is just looking for an ocean to dive into and be happy where it belongs, again. Those muddy droplets need a wash!
My little sailboat is there, by the way, waiting for me, waiting for good. It's too cold. I'm gonna sit here till spring comes.
