I WAS NOT! 

I have not been a creative head of a family, I have not yet been cuddled by the miserly, cursed Being with the cries of a lively child. My career, if I have had one, I have had tears and friends. Conscious attraction to the inward soul Nourished in me the stubborn insistence To give up-not to give up yet totally-when my arrowing, foolish mind Searched curiously on the altars of unattainable loves As the immortal desires of the decipherable All.

I am a man: though more fallible-fallen than most. My circulating idylls soon fell from their baskets. Malignant, insidious theories never lifted me; humility and curiosity spurred me on to ever more profound mysteries of unknown origin. Nor did I embark on endless adventures, the end of which was measured by the scales of my pessimistic self-pity. I could only utter, in silent whispered piss-words, the beating of my beating heart through silent voices.

The sacred myriad laws of eye-stars I therefore diligently gathered, To which predictable reason could not - only bud-flowering romance, if it could reach! Dog's-paws-seconds of combat situation troubles I could not forget! Perhaps the reveries of romantic moments gave me strength to go on - my brainstorming experiment was constantly stretched by the apocryphal dominance of words as gently vibrating soul-strings.

Sharply abrupt I watched the ripples of tearing, true-eyes. I imagined I could build solid bridges between honest confession and redemptive repentance; I tried to lend trust, loyalty, love. My closest acquaintances could hardly believe the despair and hopelessness that rippled through me as I showed my serene clown face to the world, while inside my eyes still teared with the chattering, childlike waterfall of my eyes...