. . . be absolute moderne.
Your memory and your senses will be nourishment for your creativity.
-But I've just noticed that my mind is asleep.
You will always be a hyena.
One evening I sat Beauty on my knees – And I found her bitter – And I reviled her.
A thousand Dreams within me softly burn: From time to time my heart is like some oak Whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn.