I'm alone again, my own again. A crabby, twisting organism, impetuous and impulse-prone again. I love things and live things by myself again. A bee without a drone again. I don't care about being someone's cool again. I'm my own bottomline again. I'm brown again. I'm blue again. I'm seeing green green green again. I like trees and cities more than people again. I'll be a wild strange body again, open up to new touch again. I'm recovering and discovering and covering myself in mud again. I'm bored with tepid love again. I'm deep again and raw again and healing like a wound again. I'm mad again and glad again. I'm listening to that old gal again. I'm defiant, on the move again. I love myself instead again.
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