'In the old days at home the Neverland had always begun to look a little dark and threatening by bedtime. Then unexplored patches arose in it and spread, black shadows moved about in them, the roar of the beasts of prey was quite different now, and...
i'm tired of chasing after deer -- catching my lung on the branches that hang -- (that lily-white left lung) and my heart on the barbs of fences where rabbits tangle. my fingers stain purple from black berries and birds, when the rain won't wash it away and streams and stones cut the day -- open, oh i wonder how the winter will cool me this year. (when the night breaks through --) and i hope that my blood does not freeze and congeal on the wounds of love; i live in fear of - i pray and dream for that day of longest sleep where my flesh decays to the earth of pearly-grey years spent as a child -- but i wasn't a happy child -- born under a cloud to curdling milk and needles and my blue lips parted in shock.
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