We Reach Ecstasy By A Contestation Of

But A Sort Of Rupture-in Anguish-leaves Us At The Limit Of Tears: In Such A Case We Lose Ourselves, We Forget Ourselves And Communicate With An Elusive Beyond.

When My Face Is Flushed With Blood, It Becomes Red And Obscene. It Betrays At The Same Time, Through Morbid Reflexes, A Bloody Erection And A Demanding Thirst For Indecency And Criminal Debauchery.

Pleasure Only Starts Once The Worm Has Got Into The Fruit; To Become Delightful, Happiness Must Be Tainted With Poison.

The Chaos Of The Mind Cannot Constitute A Reply To The Providence Of The Universe. All It Can Be Is An Awakening In The Night, Where All That Can Be Heard Is Anguished Poetry Let Loose.

Human Entirety Can Only Be What It Is When Giving Up The Addiction To Others' Ends.