The Unknown Was My Compass. The Unknown

There Is A Fissure In My Vision And Madness Will Always Rush Through.

Sexual Intercourse... A Joyous, Joyous, Joyous, Joyous Impaling Of Woman On Man's Sensual Mast.

We Are Never Trapped Unless We Choose To Be.

I Have This Weird Obsession About Buying Books And Looking At Them With A Smile, Even If I Won't Read Them Soon. At Least They Are Mine Now.

Idealism Is The Death Of The Body And The Imagination. All But Freedom, Utter Freedom, Is Death