Holes,
every where,
holes in
people.

Everything we do is an attempt to
fill
the
-m.
Voids are vacuous -- left unattended,
they are wounds, or virgins. Harmful or unfulfilled.

Love is hole-filling.
Sincerity is depth, and
happiness is success.
Despair is
cavity.

'She took something from me -- a part of me is gone that I'll never have again.'

There is no p-
ure blood; there is no being wit-
hout tran
s
plantation.
That is becoming.
That is human living.