I Do Not Feel I

The Heart Asks Pleasure First, And Then, Excuse From Pain; And Then, Those Little Anodynes That Deaden Suffering; And Then, To Go To Sleep; And Then, If It Should Be The Will Of Its Inquisitor, The Liberty To Die.

Safe Despair It Is That Raves- Agony Is Frugal. Puts Itself Severe Away For Its Own Perusal.

Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy Windy Will To Bear!

Finite To Fail, But Infinite To Venture.

The Abdication Of Belief Makes The Behavior Small- Better An Ignis Fatuus Than No Illume At All.