sick of things, these stupid birds 

everywhere shrieking heartbreak as if

that could touch me here five fathom deep 

in this lurid swimming pool I 

am the money I will give 

to myself. Clink clink! I will 

drink my own gods I will 

mink my way open I am 

writing a mansion with which to 

lure screenwriters. Don't be so clinical, it's 

coming for me, this disaster of dreams, 

this shaking and frothing, 

my heart's ice turning in the glass, 

chirping its fear.