My Nature Is A Quagmire Of Unresolved

Hopefully, I Write What I Don't Know.

For Love - I Would Split Open Your Head And Put A Candle In Behind The Eyes.

I Heard Words And Words Full Of Holes Aching.

Form Is Never More Than An Extension Of Content.

No Matter How Wild Reality Was Obviously Often Being, It Was An Absolutely Secure Place, As A Tone And Intelligence, And A Thing Happening.