I Hate Rarely, Though When I Hate,

Love Men And Women Not For Their Strength But Their Softness, Not For Their Fullness But Their Hunger, Not For Their Plenty But Their Need.

We See Things The Way We Are, Not The Way They Are.

Dreams Pass Into The Reality Of Action. From The Actions Stems The Dream Again; And This Interdependence Produces The Highest Form Of Living.

I'm Awaiting A Lover. I Have To Be Rent And Pulled Apart And Live According To The Demons And The Imagination In Me. I'm Restless. Things Are Calling Me Away. My Hair Is Being Pulled By The Stars Again.

Worlds Self Made Are So Full Of Monsters And Demons.