I am happy.

even Nietzsche was blind

BLOOD DRIPS FROM YOUR EYES

After all that's past, things are coming to an end. Memories form its own shape while days become nights and evening becomes dawn. What are we left then and Why are we here? the distance between time     the space that surrounds this

passing moment.

I tell myself to no longer write  of things to be remembered, or of starry skies that gaze quietly onto this

The fuel of life is but a heart that still beats. Youth-is still-breathing.  These beautiful faces I would encounter once again .those smiles that would mend me    I know they would   Immaculate Being you are  we are        hope for  and destroy   all that you used to be