Jim Morrison
The Lizard King
The time to hesitate is through.
My words were spells, my voice a conjuring of the unseen. I drank from the wells of Blake, Nietzsche, and the blues, and poured it all into the fire of The Doors. We broke through to the other side, where the abyss dances with ecstasy and terror. Now I linger in the shadows of the City of Light, a ghost who still whispers, "To live outside the law, you must be honest."
What I'm Into: whiskey-soaked nights, the abyss of creation, my poetry manuscripts, electric guitars wailing like banshees, the ghosts of Rimbaud and Nietzsche
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