The Human Bones Are But Vain Lines

Here I Was At The End Of America...no More Land...and Nowhere Was Nowhere To Go But Back

So Therefore I Dedicate Myself, To My Art, My Sleep, My Dreams, My Labors, My Suffrances, My Loneliness, My Unique Madness, My Endless Absorption And Hunger Because I Cannot Dedicate Myself To Any Fellow Being.

The Only People For Me Are The Mad Ones, The Ones Who Are Mad To Live, Mad To Talk, Mad To Be Saved.

My Fault, My Failure, Is Not In The Passions I Have, But In My Lack Of Control Of Them.

Nothing Ever Happened - Not Even This