84:
i have discovered i am i have been attached somebody attached strings to me and often wrenches violently upon them,
Breton has strings too, and sometimes
he likes to twitch.  

85:
dead space.
              i ca
                      n  ’t, i can't think,
everything is a mirror,
                             ym deah sdeen ot ehteabr,                
                            my head needs to breathe,                              
                        ­     ehtaebr ot sdeen daeh ym,  
im going  to make holes  with breton to   breathe so i can think,
i only need a nail
                           or some thorns and wire. Breton is probably hiding some wire. I am good at finding things.  

86:
when my kneecaps turn blue,
i know my health’s shot to ****.

Breton ran into Old Mathers              
in the basement              
and Mathers says Breton’s not coming up (for [quite!] a long time).  

Kat told me **** little Breton for his marrow,
never enough marrow,
Mathers says.            
I listen to Kat, always go by Kat,              
always by Kat, always:

*Death came too close to me,
  Almost seeing the eternal light.  
  Harder to feel when you’ve almost died,  
  Hopes and dreams never almost tried.
  In His eyes,  your time to go:  
  Having this purpose for me in life,
  Having this purpose for now,
  I do not know.

They sleep well here,
These fisher-folk who passed their anxious days
In fierce Atlantic ways;
And found not there,
Beneath the long curled wave,
So quiet a grave.

And they sleep well,
These peasant-folk, who told their lives away,
From day to market-day,
As one should tell,
With patient industry,
Some sad old rosary.

And now night falls,
Me, tempest-tost, and driven from pillar to post,
A poor worn ghost,
This quiet pasture calls;
And dear dead people with pale hands
Beckon me to their lands.

Seven stars in the still water,
And seven in the sky;
Seven sins on the King’s daughter,
Deep in her soul to lie.

Red roses are at her feet,
(Roses are red in her red-gold hair)
And O where her ***** and girdle meet
Red roses are hidden there.

Fair is the knight who lieth slain
Amid the rush and reed,
See the lean fishes that are fain
Upon dead men to feed.

Sweet is the page that lieth there,
(Cloth of gold is goodly prey,)
See the black ravens in the air,
Black, O black as the night are they.

What do they there so stark and dead?
(There is blood upon her hand)
Why are the lilies flecked with red?
(There is blood on the river sand.)

There are two that ride from the south and east,
And two from the north and west,
For the black raven a goodly feast,
For the King’s daughter rest.

There is one man who loves her true,
(Red, O red, is the stain of gore!)
He hath duggen a grave by the darksome yew,
(One grave will do for four.)

No moon in the still heaven,
In the black water none,
The sins on her soul are seven,
The sin upon his is one.