God, is this all it is, the ricocheting down the corridor of laughter and tears? Of self-worship and self-loathing? Of glory and disgust?
Opinions are like orgasms...mine matters most and I really don't care if you have one.
I do not love; I do not love anybody except myself. That is a rather shocking thing to admit.
I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.
I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.
I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.