Mother, I have gone mad.
I have split myself into two;
two black slabs of a person.
One sits in his wretched cave, screaming silently at the wall -
the other is cold, he does do, he does say
much more than you.
Mother, you have killed me.
Mother, I blame you.
I tried to off myself this morning,
but, like the moon, I am a hook,
and I am nailed to the dreadful sky.
The sky is not black, the sky is not blue;
oh the sky; I loathe it.
It is white and it peels away my skin
like a vegetable. Mother, I am the moon.
And you have stripped me bare.
I see it all from up here, through the blinding
terrible light. I see children and I weep for them,
that they should live.
