This pride of mine is inordinate
It is an inordinate self-love
I wish I can remedy this sense of
nothingness
I have turned this heart from love
And it has become a fountain where
tears flow
Anxiety stems from unregulated
desires
We all have the capacity to be a
saint or a sinner
This possibility makes the peculiar
tragedy of man
I stand at this juncture of love
and lust hopeless
Luck should please locate me
Isolation is a peculiar quality of
Godlessness
I hope to escape this irrationality
I am in a constant state of
suspension between matter and form
I am way too anxious
This is not the me I desired; I’m
becoming a nightmare unto myself
This conflict is not due to
ignorance
However great I become
There is something greater than I
am
I have smashed the bow
I knocked the door and turned back
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