I Write To Save Someone's Life, Probably

Things Were Somehow So Good That They Were In Danger Of Becoming Very Bad Because What Is Fully Mature Is Very Close To Rotting

I Hear The Mad Song Of A Little Bird And Crush Butterflies Between My Fingers.

There It Is, The Sea, The Most Incomprehensible Of Non-human Existences.

For Only When I Err Do I Get Away From What I Know And What I Understand. If "truth" Were What I Can Understand, It Would End Up Being But A Small Truth, My-sized. Truth Must Reside Precisely In What I Shall Never Understand.

It Is Because I Dove Into The Abyss That I Am Beginning To Love The Abyss I Am Made Of.