Last night, Niki

was not playing pong. She was writing more of her famous text-poems:

I told you i was too far gone but you didn't hear me I told you I've had enough enough but I'm too sad too lost too knee deep in my own confusion why can't you see that I need to be somwhere else general sir somewhere where sapphire skies permeate silent reveries tell me I'm okay please Vanessa tell me I'm okay when I'm burning under false heaters and lily pads made of stone pulling me down into the mire like the terrors of everything banal and everything dead I think the chimney is infinite, insurmountable, unclimbable I'm sorry I'm not like you babe I'm something else but finding not loneliness is too much it's like honey in the air in my lungs and Vanessa, it's gone everything I had then is gone and I would die once or even twice to get it back so bring it back to me please bring it back like 1984 over and over again like endless playlists too good to end too good too good to say goodbye to the person I made them for. Be there for me this one and I promise I will write you all the poems in the world, one for every grain of salt in my blood just don't let me chafe against this desert of a melancholy world where no on listens to me anymore where no one loves me anymore where everything is ice and physical death, so friend I miss you more than ever even when you're here because I know someday youll be gone or I'll be gone or what the fucking ever just don't forget I'm here I'm here Im here

Some days the world is too much for me, the unfathomable curvature of its enormous fetal spine and all the things it wants from me, my skin and my teeth, the dust of my bones after I'm gone and underground is so much closer than anything I might appreciate as sky and so I drive myself deeper into these nocturnal terrors that promise everything and give nothing but putrefaction and I hope you're not as scares as I am for this starving belly of a woman too young to be a mother anyway but old enough to run away from all this, the demands of being human, I've written so many letters of love but Vanessa this is my letter of shame, for all the things I couldn't see or do, for the gift I had and lost but today the sky is so blue, the face of an old friend gone away for so many years, and as always it gives nothing but promises everything and i don't know but maybe this time it's enough for me

I kind of can't get over ice and physical death. Then she started singing and playing the guitar. Jeez, why would anyone be surprised if I cried. Which I didn't, just for the record.