I Give The Name Violence To A

Poetry Is The Break (or Rather The Meeting At The Breaking Point) Between The Visible And The Invisible.

On Him, Under Him, With His Mouth Pressed To Hers, He Sang To Her Uncouth Songs That Moved Through Her Body.

Prisons! Prisons! Prisons, Dungeons, Blessed Places Where Evil Is Impossible Since They Are The Crossroads Of All The Malediction In The World. One Cannot Commit Evil In Evil.

Anyone Who's Never Experienced The Pleasure Of Betrayal Doesn't Know What Pleasure Is.

Slowly But Surly I Want To Strip Her Of Every Kind Of Happiness As To Make A Saint Of Her.