Love Only Brought Me Lonliness And Horror.

There Are No Words And There Is No Singing, But The Music Has A Voice. It Is An Old Voice And A Deep Voice, Like The Stump Of A Sweet Cigar Or A Shoe With A Hole. It Is A Voice That Has Lived And Lives, With Sorrow And Shame, Ecstasy And Bliss, Joy And Pain, Redemption And Damnation. It Is A Voice With Love And Without Love. I Like The Voice, And Though I Can't Talk To It, I Like The Way It Talks To Me. It Says It Is All The Same, Young Man. Take It And Let It Be.

The Afternoon And The Early Evening Slide By In A Lidded Daze Where The Ability To Think In Any Identifiable Way Disappears And Where Every Moment Seems To Be An Eternity.

I Am Aware That The Battle I Am Fighting Is A Petty One, But I Am Also Aware That In Order To Win That Which Is Great, You Must First Win That Which Is Small.

I, However, Like Black. It Is A Color That Makes Me Comfortable And The Color With Which I Have The Most Experience. In The Darkest Darkness, All Is Black. In The Deepest Hole, All Is Black. In The Terror Of My Addicted Mind, All Is Black. In The Empty Periods Of My Lost Memory, All Is Black. I Like Black, Goddammit, And I Am Going To Give It Its Due.

When Something Is Staring You In The Face In Your Life And You See It With Your Own Two Eyes And Feel It Within Your Heart Only A Fool Doesn't Believe It To Be True.