SweetWords...

In a way, you are poetry material; You are full of cloudy subtleties I am willing to spend a lifetime figuring out. Words burst in your essence and you carry their dust in the pores of your ethereal individuality.

There are some things one cannot seize by realism, but by sheer poetry. I feel there is too much naturalism; It obscures moods, feelings, psychic states. I am fond of the lower depths, the underworlds. I never find myself fitting in a well assembled series of realistic events. I much rather prefer growth in an atmosphere of music, books and artists, always constructing, creating, writing, drawing, inventing plays, acting in them, writing a diary, living in created dreams as inside a cocoon, dreams born of reading, always reading, growing, disciplining myself to learn, to study, skirting abysses and dangers with incredible innocence, the body always sensitive but in flight from ugliness. I want to remain sincere and surround my innermost world with romance.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.