I seethe with loneliness--And my lovers? Sick to death of fucking nothingness; the very little i have the will to provide. Caught in the net of oblivion, there is nowhere to go but on to everything--The nothingness yet prevails!

Wringing sweet drips of euphoric understanding--How i wish i could secrete such bliss with this heavenly skin! Instead, i bask in sin, looked down upon by my peers in fear. Of what? Rejection? upheaval? Reactionary theorems? Do not glare with such stupefying grins! I can take so little no longer.

A chunk, a sum as a piece of flesh--This is all i am; a lump of memorizing memory and lush experience. This is fine by the likes of me, as a core of desolation; destitute soul by choice alone, but experience only accentuates these finer points in life.