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Letter to younger men totally lost:

I understand obsession with freedom

Infatuation with mine I too sought

She’s allusive, an ass, always moving

The truth is little brother, you’re a fool

The dull simply don’t know better or worse

You, one and the same, know it not to be

Yet, rabid individuality

Foamy mouth, frantic face, foot fungus smell

You walk in common chains among the dead

You serve seraphim selves always in hell

Now enough! One first time, be male worthy

Freely choose to set pseudo freedom free

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—Howard Hain

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