I spent my boyhood avoiding the disgrace of my differences. Creating alternate empires that I ruled with stoic passion. I gave out negative vibrations, as a boy, to control the level of association. Built walls and lived within them, perfectly encased in sarcastic wisdom. Does not take too long to understand that being yourself is not suggested. Eager advocates educate the boy that his differences must be suppressed. Be the same. Be the same. Be the same. Moulded and conformed, unaware of the boyhood desiring to think for self. I spent my boyhood reading books that opened libraries of imagination. Absorbing the solitary creations of so many magnificent lives. They presented me with echoes of alternatives. I never have understood the slicked back membrane of uncentred filters. Solitary self-confinement made so much more tickled sense to me. I passed out scented cigars of me to ear-drums inclined to not listen. They agreed to, and supported, the numbness of not thinking. Letting the self-declared prophets dictate how we must believe. I spent my boyhood being the boy that did not fit the paper model. Set it on fire. Set it on fire. Let the message always be that a man must indicate his own set of standards.