Me Too, I Make Do, I Anoint

Writing Is The Passageway, The Entrance, The Exit, The Dwelling Place Of The Other In Me.

In The Synagogue Of My Heart... I Myself Jail And The Jailed, I Go Wounded, Bite-marked

Love Is When You Suddenly Wake Up As A Cannibal, And Not Just Any Old Cannibal, Or Else Wake Up Destined For Devourment.

I Am Not Innocent. Innocence Is A Science Of The Sublime. And I Am Only At The Very Beginning Of The Apprenticeship.

I Am Sick Of Death And Worst Of All This Sickness Feeds On Itself, The More Afraid I Am The More I Am Afraid The More I Flee The More I Am Afraid The More I Am Haunted.