-- An Introduction
[You are a struggler, and frequently
succumb to despair, perfectly
unbalanced and lacking something more
to defend and own and to adore.]
You, I know, but are not close
to the falsified devotion of your name.
But us? We played in the playground and
shared secrets, climbed houses--we,
the immortal children of the age,
are in likeness to eternity.
And we, we know not of love,
but dearness and adoration of
a precious unit and that which is real
of what perception can and cannot be.
They call us unfortunate and chaotic,
but I must say, we act logically
and deliberately, though infested with
nervousness. And perhaps jealousy,
though I had never seen that before yesterday.
Now the others, their minds have been
tortured from the edges of youth.
And death! And love! Personally,
I wish I gave them not a thought.
But even without, we are loving men--
famous for being what we should not--
but we know better. We may smile,
and know distinctly how perfect we are.