I have always loved the word of the poet...

Audrey was a thin pale boy his face scarred with festering spiritual wounds.
"He looks lika a sheep-killing dog," said a St. Louis aristocrat.
There was something rotten and unclean about Audrey, an odor of the walking dead.

William S. Burroughs

I guess my lifelong love-affair with these words have marked me.
In both good and bad ways, that is...

The somewhat desperate need to separate myself from society have had consequences, and I openly confess to regularly;

A: Making a spectacle of myself.

B: Repeatedly being a burden on my surroundings.

My shortcomings makes me the man I am, as do my strengths.
To me; life is a balancing act.
I have few high-flying notions about my superiority.

As a Satanist;
I may have failed.
But then again; I may not...


Contra Mundum!