I have spent days scraping off so much skin that at times, my skin smells like rotten flesh. ...When the sun finally dawns, I am weaving in dead skin, I am trying to keep alive what lies within. ` So I am patching back to life this torn tent with a smile, a poem, a film, a song, A kiss and a fuck. ` Now I am too tired to weave, and too anxious to sleep, Drowning in Dis-ease and too dead for relief.