There is nothing out here...it is all inside;it is all in my head.The things that happen do not existunless I give them meaning.To be able to define everythingis where my greatest weakness lies.To be able to feelis the madness I need to make senseof the things that strike me.People strike me,love strikes meand everything else moves mein such a waythat I could barely understand.I feel,and everything I feel is nothing;nothing but an extensionof the mindandof the heart I was born with.
Robert M. Drake, Black Butterfly
poetry, reality