What Will I Do When I Can

The Whisper Of The Blood And The Pleading Of The Bone Marrow.

...i Will Exile My Thoughts If They Think Of You Again, And I Will Rip My Lips Out If They Say Your Name Once More. Now If You Do Exist, I Will Tell You My Final Word In Life Or In Death, I Tell You Goodbye.

When Good Befalls A Man He Calls It Providence, When Evil Fate.

But Now The World Breaks In On Us, The World Is Shocked, The World Looks Upon Our Idyll As Madness. The World Maintains That No Rational Man Or Woman Would Have Chosen This Way Of Life - Therefore, It Is Madness. Alone I Confront Them And Tell Them That Nothing Could Be Saner Or Truer! What Do People Really Know About Life? We Fall In Line, Follow The Pattern Established By Our Mentors. Everything Is Based On Assumptions; Even Time, Space, Motion, Matter Are Nothing But Supposition. The World Has No New Knowledge To Impart; It Merely Accepts What Is There.

Language Must Resound With All The Harmonies Of Music. The Writer Must Always, At All Times, Find The Tremulous Word Which Captures The Thing And Is Able To Draw A Sob From My Soul By Its Very Rightness.