Solitude Desolates Me; Company Oppresses Me.

Should I Be What I Think? But I Think About Being So Many Things!

My Joy Is As Painful As My Pain.

But My Sadness Is Comforting Because It’s Right And Natural And Because It’s What The Soul Should Feel When It Already Thinks It Exists And The Hand Pick Flowers And The Soul Takes No Notice.

What Hells And Purgatories And Heavens I Have Inside Of Me! But Who Sees Me Do Anything That Disagrees With Life--me, So Calm And Peaceful?

There Are Metaphors More Real Than The People Who Walk In The Street.