You Are The Poet, You Walk Inside

He Understands My Pity For His Ridiculous, Humiliating Physical Necessity.

Pain Is Something To Master, Not To Wallow In.

To Change Skins, Evolve Into New Cycles, I Feel One Has To Learn To Discard

We Are Like Sculptors, Constantly Carving Out Of Others The Image We Long For, Need, Love Or Desire, Often Against Reality, Against Their Benefit, And Always, In The End, A Disappointment, Because It Does Not Fit Them.

Someone Told Me The Delightful Story Of The Crusader Who Put A Chastity Belt On His Wife And Gave The Key To His Best Friend For Safekeeping, In Case Of His Death. He Had Ridden Only A Few Miles Away When His Friend, Riding Hard, Caught Up With Him, Saying 'you Gave Me The Wrong Key!