The humiliation I go through/when I think of my past/can only be described as grace./We are created by being destroyed.

literature will lose, sunlight will win, don't worry.

This is no occupation for an adult who can look other adults in the eye, carry his own weight, and count himself one of them.

The humiliation I go through/when I think of my past/can only be described as grace./We are created by being destroyed.

The long silences need to be loved, perhaps more than the words which arrive to describe them in time.

EPITAPH Now I'm not the brightest knife in the drawer, but I know a couple things about this life: poverty silence, impermanence discipline and mystery The world is not illusory, we are From crimson thread to toe tag If you are not disturbed there is something seriously wrong with you, I'm sorry And I know who I am I'll be a voice coming from nowhere, inside-- be glad for me.

Its hard for me to grasp that I might somehow be my fathers equal in any way.