Death Makes Angels Of Us All.

That’s What Real Love Amounts To - Letting A Person Be What He Really Is....most People Love You For Who You Pretend To Be....to Keep Their Love, You Keep Pretending - Performing. You Get To Love Your Pretense...it’s True, We’re Locked In An Image, An Act...

Love Cannot Save You From Your Own Fate.

If My Poetry Aims To Achieve Anything, It's To Deliver People From The Limited Ways In Which They See And Feel.

The Future Is Uncertain But The End Is Always Near.

The Subject Says: I See First Many Things Which Dance... Then Everything Gradually Becomes Connected.