Sometimes  the best thing in life is to flee.

All good flings come to an end.

You are not the only chicken in  the. casket

He was so  odd he wore a hat in bed and a codpiece  when he fled.

I think blogging is for cowards.We can’t trace reality at all.

You can’t teach a cold blog hot tricks.

He said he was devilish,doctor.Is it a Satandemic?

I want to knit a lover for my bed
A Freudian slip as well,to show I’ve read
Interpretations,dreams and signs
That each betray  my paradigms
Thus take me down the unknown track I  dread.

What,shall I grumble at a little ill,
And see a mouse grow to a chimpanzee?
Shall I moan and shriek and fall downhill
When I might look at mountains and broad sea?

Oh,shall I endlessly repeat the story sad?
And make my brother men be saddened too?
Or shall I spend my time with people glad,
And show my sister women, willing new?

I see that in my heart I must contain
Some painful,prickling agony and grief.
But knowing that my life comes not again
Shall I permit such woe to be my thief?

For, in a glance into a beggar’s eyes,
I saw compassion and the truth it cries.