What Falls Away Is Always.

When I Go Mad, I Call My Friends By Phone: I Am Afraid They Might Think They're Alone.

I Always Felt Mean, Jogging Back Over The Logging Road,as If I Had Broken The Natural Order Of Things In That Swampland;disturbed Some Rhythm, Old And Of Vast Importance,by Pulling Off Flesh From The Living Planet;as If I Had Committed, Against The Whole Scheme Of Life, A Desecration.

The Self Says, I Am; The Heart Says, I Am Less; The Spirit Says, You Are Nothing.

The Stones Were Sharp, The Wind Came At My Back; Walking Along The Highway, Mincing Like A Cat.

By Daily Dying, I Have Come To Be.