You Are What You Are And That

Alcohol Is Barren. The Words A Man Speaks In The Night Of Drunkenness Fade Like The Darkness Itself At The Coming Of Day.

In Heterosexual Love There's No Solution. Man And Woman Are Irreconcilable, And It's The Doomed Attempt To Do The Impossible, Repeated In Each New Affair, That Lends Heterosexual Love Its Grandeur.

Fidelity, Enforced And Unto Death, Is The Price You Pay For The Kind Of Love You Never Want To Give Up, For Someone You Want To Hold Forever, Tighter And Tighter, Whether He's Close Or Far Away, Someone Who Becomes Dearer To You The More You've Sacrificed For His Sake.

I've Forgotten The Words With Which To Tell You. I Knew Them Once, But I've Forgotten Them, And Now I'm Talking To You Without Them.

The Solitude Of Writing Is A Solitude Without Which Writing Could Not Be Produced, Or Would Crumble, Drained Bloodless By The Search For Something Else To Write.