All The Modern Verse Plays, They're Terrible;

We Can’t Always Tell The Whole Story About Ourselves.

[the Doctor] Peeked Into The Trauma Room And Saw The Situation: The Clerk - That Is, Me - Standing Next To The Orderly, Georgie, Both Of Us On Drugs, Looking Down At A Patient With A Knife Sticking Up Out Of His Face. 'what Seems To Be The Trouble?' He Asked.

She Wanted To Eat My Heart And Be Lost In The Desert With What She'd Done, She Wanted To Fall On Her Knees And Give Birth From It, She Wanted To Hurt Me As Only A Child Can Be Hurt By Its Mother.

I'd Been Staying At The Holiday Inn With My Girlfriend, Honestly The Most Beautiful Woman I'd Ever Known, For Three Days Under A Phony Name, Shooting Heroin. We Made Love In The Bed, Ate Steaks At The Restaurant, Shot Up In The John, Puked, Cried, Accused One Another, Begged Of One Another, Forgave, Promised, And Carried One Another To Heaven.

Before This Moment I'd Lived As A Mind. Body, Heart, Soul, Intellect, So We Care Ourselves Into Parts. But The Whole Of Us, What Can It Be?