(no subject)
Today, I wrote a new poem. I call it, "The Tiger and the Princess". Here in the English countryside there aren't many tigers. It is a psychological tiger, a symbol of the predatory side of myself which feeds on princesses. But it is not my fault I tell you!
I checked the dial on the gas stove exactly 330,457 times today. I had to make sure it was off. Those things are dreadful! In fact, I spend as little time as possible in the kitchen. The electric bills would be far too expensive, what with my poet's salary. It's so hard to make ends meet without my royalties from Birthday Letters, but it's hard to get royalties when you are dead. Checks in the mail aren't much help when you are invisible and unable to pick anything up! Just like in Ghost, you know, with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze which... speaking of death, where IS Patrick Swayze anyway? Boy, those American actors disappear so quickly!