I feel it cloy at my skin again. The familiar terror that for a while was so unfamiliar and distant has returned.

Why is it that as soon as I start to live my body starts to die?

When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold.  They believe that when something's suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.

Empty is
the sky before the sun wakes up the morning.
The eyes of animals in cages.
The faces of women mourning
when everything has been taken
from them.
Me?
Don’t ask me about empty.
Empty is a string of dirty days
held together by some rain
and the cold wind drumming
at the trees again.
Empty is the color of the fields
along about September
when the days go marching
in a line toward November.
Empty is the hour before sleep
kills you every night
then pushes you to safety
away from every kind of light.
Empty is me.
Empty is me.

Respect whatever pain you bring back
from your dreaming
but do not look for new gods
in the sea
nor in any part of a rainbow.
Each time you love
love as deeply
as if it were
forever
only nothing is
eternal.

Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country.

What a day to be young and alive!!
The world is at my feet, moist and glistening, like a new born taking its first breaths, thrashing away the placenta and looking at life through a virgins eyes - possibilities, adventure, danger, excitement!
Oh to be young, have raven red hair, pierced ears, a posse of die hard friends, and a reason to live!
I love this day, never let it end!