He Was Trying To Fit

Now Every Mortal Has Pain And Sweat Is Constant, But If There Is Anything Dearer Than Being Alive, It's Dark To Me. We Humans Seem Disastrously In Love With This Thing (whatever It Is) That Glitters On The Earth-- We Call It Life. We Know No Other. The Underworld's A Blank And All The Rest Just Fantasy.

I Mean, Every Thought Starts Over, So Every Expression Of A Thought Has To Do The Same. Every Accuracy Has To Be Invented... I Feel I Am Blundering In Concepts Too Fine For Me.

No Need To Fear Death. There Will Be A Tunnel And Light.

Caught Between The Tongue And The Taste.

Comfortable Means Gradually More And More Flattened Down, More And More Blunt - Less And Less Sharp And Biting Into You.