I Know All One Can Know When

I Suddenly Remember Something I've Been Told About Fear. That Amid A Hail Of Machine Gun Fire You Notice The Existence Of Your Skin.

I See Journalists As The Manual Workers, The Laborers Of The Word. Journalism Can Only Be Literature When It Is Passionate.

I Am Dead. I Have No Desire For You. My Body No Longer Wants The One Who Doesn’t Love.

Heterosexuality Is Dangerous. It Tempts You To Aim At A Perfect Duality Of Desire.

A Prolonged Silence Ensues. The Reason For The Silence Is Our Growing Interest One For The Other. No One Is Aware Of It, No One Yet; No One? Am I Quite Sure?