Send me back from whence come the tracks. Send my wife a 
flower and a knife. For the words have stopped coming and 
my legs began running. But the worst is the fact that 
this world is a trap. It was only a way to see if I would 
stay. Craft is a farce because love is so sparse, and art 
cannot compare to the worst love affair. God has to exist 
if we are born inside a kiss. But the truth is in my lap: 
this world is just a trap.