I am an easier man to know from afar…
…for to know me daily, is to be faced with a crooked mirror roaring mangled mutterings which are always meant.
Honesty is a commodity to the many.
I look upon myself as filthy whenever I speak to another with an inconsequential leaning away from brazen…It bothers me to see me playing any game, out of politeness, through courting, for anything but fear for my own survival. And so I continue to flap my sodden paws against the tide, perched upon the raft of twigs clung together by hair pulled from mermaids I drowned in their fluid embrace when I realised they were Medusa of the oceans…I find my fangs and howl and roar at the waves and gales and blizzards of the human comedy.
Bjork is a hint of pure elf felt on the breeze from the forest.