At the beach I wish to die, a little
thud without dimension. The psychiatrist

ignores me, which is usual.
The beach smears past.

The morning never comes, or happens.
I remember a word and it destroys

my brain plaques. There’s nothing passive
about knowledge. I think language

invented money. A museum is comprised of
squares. God was the original

liar. I buy a pair of nylons.
I look beautiful and have no secrets.