Page Eight

Why am I writing this fucking book?

Tell mom I have to get psychoanalyzed & IQ test
Dream was: Mom was running away from me, the robot alien didn't work so I couldn't find her, A stupid guy stole my doll.
                    Why do I keep it around?
                   Can't let go of childhood?
In my whole life with all the places I've been & lived my doll & blanket have been my only two possestions which have stayed w/ me -everything else has
changed.
        Fell like Throwing up, Sleeping, Reading,
Eating, Starving but mostly Puking.
         I'm not going to though. Not Yet
Friday- I'm sick, I leave the house on
Sunday

I will fight this & love this sick-ness
I will become proud of my dis-ease
Sooner of Later I will understand
Why I have/had it , why it makes me, me

Then As soon as I make my
mind bend, I'll learn,
I'm learning how to fly
Give me some wings or a shit load of
fresh air
And sooner or later you'll fly