DEATH BE NOT PROUD

Death is in the flush of pride. Death is the raw redness of fear. Death is the terrible edge of pain. Death is the desparate ache of frustration. Death is the streaming fusion of true love. Death is the final act of the tragedy of birth.

Death is a subatomic cosmic wind, sweeping us all along with it, into the blue yonder...

We carry our own deaths, growing ever more furiously alive, screaming in, at and with our human condition

Life is an interval in a cycle, a naked lunch break.

Death is an active process that runs through the body along with every intense feeling, screaming, blue.