Comprehend your fate. I now see your delusional, misinformed soul. The teachers of this great intervention, which is yourself, obviously shallowed your perception. Death, it does not hit you solidly. Put it this way my child - I know you will not want to hear this, we have no choice - think of all you intend to do. Your plans, hopes, dreams of the future. I know you long for this. I know you NEED for it all. But if I were to suddenly cut short, imagine that. No more life; done so little with what little you had.

Think of all that depends upon you. Everything you care for and support; how they shall crumble at your loss.

Fill your mind with naughtness.

With anything.

Blank it out,

Just try.

The pain, the suffering,

The agony.

Itíll always be there,

Poking its ugly head through,

What ever you choose as fodder.

Sticks and stones

May break my bones

But whips and chains

Excite me.



Burnt and crisp.

That's how I like my men;

Well done.

The room is cold and has been like this for several months. If I close my eyes I can visualise everything in it. Right down, right down to the broken handle on the third drawer down of the dressing table. And the world out side this room has also assumed a familiar shape. The same events shuffled in a slightly different order each day, just like a modern shopping centre.

And it's so cold, yeah it's so cold.

What is this feeling called love? Why me? Why you? Why here? And why now?

It doesn't make no sense no. It's not convenient no. It doesn't fit my plans oh itís something I don't understand.


(F. E. E. L. I. N. G. C. A. double L. E. D. L. O. V. E.?)