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I really ought to have done something sooner. My clothes are getting to be tight and I'm starting to show. "I know somebody," she said, "But you'll need money. Go from west to east," she said, "walk through the snow. But do you have any money?" "Yes, I've sold my fur coat." "You'll need more," she said, "walk through the snow."
All the things I have taken, you must be a monster. I can feel you there inside me, starting to grow. The Abbè Sebastian pills, the primrose label. Quinine, a franc a bottle; but you didn't go. O, the things I had to do, but now I have the money sewn into a little canvas bag. I didn't know gold could be so heavy.
Waiting for the star to rise, with you here, here inside. You, with maybe no arms, maybe no eyes.
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It's Christmas eve. Red lights wish me a 'Joyeux Noel'. Red lights invite me to a live sex show. In the back alley basement, she says "It's not long now." She holds my hand. She mops my brow. The bells are ringing. My head is spinning. Two hearts are beating. I'm screaming. It's Christmas again.
It's Christmas eve, now one year ago; walking through dead streets and dirty snow. I stepped into a bar. He was singing songs I didn't know. I asked him to dance. He didn't say no.
There is no home. There is no bread. There is no crib for a bed.
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I'm glad it happened when nobody could see. The room is dark and I feel giddy. The only light comes in from under the door. I'd like a drink. There's gin on the sideboard. Champagne's what they give 'em, that's what I ought to have. A drink won't do me any harm. Champagne's what I ought to have. Champagne on Christmas day. Under the door the ray of light comes in like the last thrust of remembering before everything is blotted out. I'll soon start again, I've got no doubt. I thought about being fresh and new, about starting all over again, about misty mornings and summer days and starting all over again, all over again...
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