Feed your demons. Press an accelerator pedal to the floor, kiss the women you desire, do tattoos, hit glasses to the wall, smash cad's faces, sing drunken songs on the streets, jump with a parachute and smile to children in neighbor cars. Feed your demons, because your demons are you. Real you, not pasteurized, not refined, not distilled or filtered by morals, public opinion, paternal censure. Feed them, otherwise they will eat themselves and leave only a wrap on what a man is. Epidermal cover inflated with complexes, rather than feelings. Unfulfilled desires, rather than emotions and unfulfilled fantasies, instead of self-confidence. Feed them, and do not wait until they them self, without your knowledge and desire, explode out. They Will tear your soul apart, and flush bright from an overabundance of oxygen, and burn out and carry you away to the very bottom, where you become an executor of own eternal evils, not the director of own adventures. Feed your demons, and not be ashamed or afraid of them. Let the others fear them, those others whose demons are long dead.