as i descend into the mad sun i visit blue brothels and calm green seas. i rip cables out of butterflies to suture my wounds. i change my course, to my Fate.
As Must we all.
II
i've learned a great many things about dead ends... they always start where you live. they bend the moon to your aspect. the red death to a - false hope. with a real hope.
and as much despair.
III
gather where ye may, the very laurels of your heart. But, be neither spendthrift with your anguish - nor copiously disarmed. have your adventures where a god - can pardon you... For having less faith than an abandoned thought of You.
go only to return. and burn your memoirs in the attic to **** the dream.
leave no fingerprints in the vacuum. wash your hands of the spiral - and feel what It Means.