I do not know who I am, I have that soul.
When I speak honestly do not know that I speak sincerely.
I am a variously other than that I do not know if there is (if these others) ...
I do not have beliefs.
Thou hast ravished my cravings that repudiation.
My perpetual perpetually watching over me I tip
betrayals of soul to a character that I may not,
or she thinks I have.
I am multiple.
I'm like a room with many mirrors fantastic
twist so that false reflections
before a single reality that is not in any and is in all.
As the pantheist feels tree (?) And to the flower,
I feel many beings.
I am living the lives of others in me halfway,
as if my being involved in all men,
halfway of each (?)
for a