The Only People In This World I

The Instant That The Blade Tore Open His Flesh, The Bright Disk Of The Sun Soared Up And Exploded Behind His Eyelids.

It Is A Common Failing Of Childhood To Think That If One Makes A Hero Out Of A Demon The Demon Will Be Satisfied.

When Silence Is Prolonged Over A Certain Period Of Time, It Takes On New Meaning.

Is There Not A Sort Of Remorse That Precedes Sin? Was It Remorse At The Very Fact That I Existed?

I Am One Who Has Always Been Interested Only In The Edges Of The Body And The Spirit, The Outlying Regions Of The Body And The Outlying Regions Of The Spirit. The Depths Hold No Interest For Me; I Leave Them To Others, For They Are Shallow, Commonplace. What Is There, Then, At The Outer Most Edge? Nothing, Perhaps, Save A Few Ribbons, Dangling Down Into The Void.