I Want To Be Important. By Being

I Am Gone Quite Mad With The Knowledge Of Accepting The Overwhelming Number Of Things I Can Never Know, Places I Can Never Go, And People I Can Never Be.

Outcast On A Cold Star, Unable To Feel Anything But An Awful Helpless Numbness. I Look Down Into The Warm, Earthy World. Into A Nest Of Lovers' Beds, Baby Cribs, Meal Tables, All The Solid Commerce Of Life In This Earth, And Feel Apart, Enclosed In A Wall Of Glass.

Only I Wasn't Steering Anything, Not Even Myself.

Love Is The Bone And Sinew Of My Curse.

It Is A Terrible Thing To Be So Open: It Is As If My Heart Put On A Face And Walked Into The World.