TOUCHMEDONOTTOUCHMEIAMALIVE

Wednesday, September 2, 1970

Fig. 014

The origin of this piece is unknown.

I drag my glass blown heart in the rain. It's jagged edge was causing me pain, and so I ripped it out, all in vein. You are so cold. We call it insane. I want you gone by morning light. I dare you, look around this place. There is nothing here for you. A God loved. I, a man, loved you. You returned to neither. You have allowed yourself to become a pawn in war. A senseless war full of blood. Full of massacres. Full of hate. You, who is so loved. You, who is so beautiful. You allow yourself to become a weapon.