I'm a sad person, madness, blindness, blemish, scar, easy to be sweet on, easy to be hated, a golden fern in a field of black grass and an old rotten stable. I pretend they're makeshift castles, parachutes of splotched flowers in the sky, reasonable rain spitting on me, underwater kissing, a lazy slope and tired fence, a wishing well and the burnt red clay of the spotty ant mounds, the inky light of Northeast Georgia, a blanket of silent prayers, God is good, a sober world full of somber and sweet delight, you should see it, it's really beautiful, my heart broke in silence too, Arabian desert and my jar of Indian clay, white orchid pollen on a fat pumpkin, a wild forest strawberry, bee nectar dripping gloomily, Christ and his two warm and then hot palms on my face, please, please, you can do all things, you died for me and you died for the ungodly, the unpierced semidarkness of light through the bruised clouds, the paradox and scriptures, Christianity and my crystal forest, my blood, the gospel, angels standing in the flowery brook of rivers in full bloom, please, the sea inside, please, everything is made of glass, the trees are full of glass, I am made of glass, please, my favorite color is midnight blue and I have a musical happiness when I look out of a window when it's raining, please.