Beware Of Allowing A Tactless Word, A

If I Love You It Means We Share The Same Fantasies, The Same Madnesses

If What Proust Says Is True, That Happiness Is The Absence Of Fever, Then I Will Never Know Happiness. For I Am Possessed By A Fever For Knowledge, Experience, And Creation.

There Is A Fissure In My Vision And Madness Will Always Rush Through.

Death From Disillusion Is Not Instantaneous, And There Are No Mercy Killers For The Disillusioned.

We Speak Of The Masculine And The Feminine, But They Are The Wrong Labels. It Is Really More A Matter Of Poetry Versus Intellectualization.