The Sheets above me cool my skin like diirt on a madwoman´s grave,I rise into the moonlight withe and Watch the mirror stare.The pale fish looks back at me,pale fish will never swim.My skin is milk for no man to drink.My things unused, unclenched. This body isn´t ready yet.But dirt waits for no woman and coins will buy no time.I hear the chatter of the bugs it´s they alone will feast.