A Man Who Wants To Mutilate Himself

Is It In These Bottomless Nights That You Sleep In Exile?

I Don't Love Women. Love Has To Be Reinvented, We Know That. The Only Thing Women Can Ultimately Imagine Is Security. Once They Get That, Love, Beauty, Everything Else Goes Out The Window. All They Have Left Is Cold Disdain; That's What Marriages Live On Nowadays. Sometimes I See Women Who Ought To Be Happy, With Whom I Could Have Found Companionship, Already Swallowed Up By Brutes With As Much Feeling As An Old Log.

No One's Serious At Seventeen.

I Wrote Silences; Nights; I Recorded The Unnameable.

A Thousand Dreams Within Me Softly Burn