| All I can do is be me.
Whoever that is. |
| |
| We live and we die. And the wheels on the bus go round and round.
Then a static shot of an open field yielding to an occasional sweeping breeze, and a transitive question appears: "Don't you hear that horrible screaming all around you. That screaming, men call silence?" |
| |
| I love Bob Dylan, he makes me happy.
"I'm halfway content
Most of the time
I know exactly where it went
I don't cheat on myself I don't run and hide
Hide from the feelings that are buried inside
I don't compromise and I don't pretend
I don't even care if I ever see her again
Most of the time." |
| |
| I find a fatal flaw
In the logic of love
And go out of my head
|
| |
| A poet once said of me:
He stands before me
Arms of gilded gore,
He leans over me,
Towering as oaks of yore,
Mighty strength is in his eyes,
And fecund virility in his thighs,
Like a molted Mars
Out of onyx made.
In the olden days,
Amidst the gods he laid.
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