No Sickness Worse Than Imagining Thyself To

We Are The Fingertips Of Blind Illusion, You Are The Absolute Cause Of Causes.

Sorrows Are The Rags Of Old Clothes And Jackets That Serve To Cover, And Then Are Taken Off. That Undressing, And The Beautiful Naked Body Underneath, Is The Sweetness That Comes After Grief.

Nothing I Say Can Explain To You Divine Love Yet All Of Creation Cannot Seem To Stop Talking About It.

Is Your Face A Beautiful Blossom Or A Sweet Torture? I Have No Complaints But My Heart Is Tempted To Let You Hear Of Its Sorrows.

Live In The Nowhere That You Come From Even Though You Have Got An Address Here.