Blood Is The Rose Of Mysterious Union.

You Live You Die And Death Not Ends It.

In The Holy Solipsism Of The Young Now I Can't Walk Thru A City Street W/out Eying Each Single Pedestrian. I Feel Thier Vibe Thru My Skin, The Hair On My Neck --- It Rises.

They Got The Guns But We Got The Numbers.

I Am Troubled, Immeasurably By Your Eyes. I Am Struck By The Feather Of Your Soft Reply. The Sound Of Glass Speaks Quick, Disdain And Conceals What Your Eyes Fight To Explain.

The Grand Highway Is Crowded W/lovers & Searchers & Leavers So Eager To Please & Forget. Wilderness.