=

I feel one of my turns coming on.

I I I

I am a broken record
I miss it
I miss this
I am dying (only on the inside),
(there's no need to fret)
I know what I need
I'll never find it

' ' '

You can be sorry now,
because all I feel for you is
contempt.

That is a lie,
on one level it is.
But on the other,
it is the truth.

Please be sorry.
Please be well.