The last time you saw me
I was rolled up in a sheet
and moaning on the floor;
clutching the handle of an ax at night,
sure that someone evil
would be coming through the door.

The last time you saw me
Anyone could see
I needed to get the hell away;
I felt shrunk
and shriveled like a pill bug,
getting smaller every day.

Like Heathcliff,
who left the room too soon
and ran from the Yorkshire moors --
someone said he sailed to America,
fought and fortuned
in the Revolutionary War.

I just fled to the unsmiling city
and shivered through a winter
that could turn your skin stone gray;
I try and try to simplify,
spend most all my time alone --
until I learn to do it, I guess I'm going to stay ...