Should I think myself to inaction, I will be a dead bot by morning.
A thought-sick lithium messenger
Should I love myself to violet-haired charm, I will write 10,000 lines of small, dark poetry and bathe extremities to dislocation.
wane to beauty, to cliff-hearted loveliness
Should I hold myself in the light, I will sink from the sunbeams.
give ocean breath a chance
Should I falter, I will sleep away a dizzy comedown.
The truth is that
swans want nothing to do with me,
and the long, pale dawn stains my hands.
PLUTO BLOOMING 