You Can Have This Kind Of Love.

I Still Believe That You Truly Find Yourself Not In Travel, But In Other Human Souls.

But I Saw The Pain And Sadness In Everything, And Swirled It Round My Mouth Like A Fine Wine.

It Is Madness. And If You Don't Know Who You Are, Or If Your Real Self Has Drifted Away From You With The Undertow, Madness At Least Gives You An Identity. It's The Same With Self-loathing. You're Probably Just Normal And Normal-looking But That's Not A Real Identity, Not The Way Ugliness Is. Normality, Just Accepting That You're Probably Normal-looking, Lacks The Force Field Of Self-disgust. If You Don't Know Who You Are, Madness Gives You Something To Believe In.

When He Kisses Me, I Cry. I Explain It's Not Because I Wish He Were Someone Else, It's Because It's Such A Shock To The System To Be Desired After Feeling So Completely Abandoned.

No One Ever Loved You Like Him. And No One Ever Took It Away So Completely. But It's Here. Look Around.