To Think Is To Destroy.

Destiny Gave Me Only Two Things: A Few Accounting Books And The Gift Of Dreaming.

I Know Nothing And My Heart Aches

I Search And Can't Find Myself. I Belong In Chrysanthemum Time, Sharp In Calla Lily Elongations. God Made My Soul Into An Ornamental Thing.

Blessed Are Those Who Entrust Their Lives To No One.

The Poet Is A Pretender. / He Pretends So Completely, / That He Even Pretends That It Is Pain / The Pain He Really Feels.