Kill Me, Or You Are A Murderer.

I, However, Cannot Force Myself To Use "meat Drugs" To Cheat On My Loneliness.

Being Alone Has A Power Over Me That Never Fails. My Interior Dissolves (for The Time Being Only Superficially) And Is Ready To Release What Lies Deeper. When I Am Willfully Alone, A Slight Ordering Of My Interior Begins To Take Place And I Need Nothing More.

Sometimes I Think I Can Expiate All My Past And Future Sins Through The Aching Of My Bones.

There Sat I, A Faded Being, Under Faded Leaves.

I Do Not See The World At All; I Invent It.