Take A Lover Who Looks

Your Word Travels The Entirety Of Space And Reaches My Cells Which Are My Stars Then Goes To Yours Which Are My Light.

Only One Mountain Can Know The Core Of Another Mountain.

I Paint Flowers To Prevent Them From Dying

I Hope The Exit Is Joyful And I Hope Never To Return.

I Wish I Could Do Whatever I Liked Behind The Curtain Of “madness”. Then: I’d Arrange Flowers, All Day Long, I’d Paint; Pain, Love And Tenderness, I Would Laugh As Much As I Feel Like At The Stupidity Of Others, And They Would All Say: “poor Thing, She’s Crazy!” (above All I Would Laugh At My Own Stupidity.) I Would Build My World Which While I Lived, Would Be In Agreement With All The Worlds. The Day, Or The Hour, Or The Minute That I Lived Would Be Mine And Everyone Else’s - My Madness Would Not Be An Escape From “reality”.