wake up! it's morning - as pretty and pitiless as it ever was.
so? get up. stress is swarming -
as relentless and requisite as it ever was.
i do this on my own. i cannot continue to be your flesh yo-yo.
i must face it alone, like the men in my family have done.
i weren't carved out of stone. my heart beats a rather odd drum solo.
but i make it go on, or i don't and i'm done.
wake up. it's morning - as gladly indifferent as it ever was.
so? i'm up and storming - as sadly imperious as my father was.
i do this on my own. i will not contribute to your next dull novel.
my non-fiction ticks on with the metronome in my chest.
each new city i roam reminds always that my heart must wander.
where i am is my home. what i need is a rest.
there are too many artists. too much art and not enough genius.
i believe science is the art of the next age.
there are so many artists with too much heart and not enough reason.
i'm afraid silence is the song of the next age.
what we don't know won't hurt us.
what we don't know won't keep us up at night.
what we don't know won't hurt us. but we don't know.
what you don't know won't hurt you.
what you don't know won't have you terrified.
what you don't know won't hurt you. but you don't know.
and you won't know that you don't.