Art Need No Longer Be An Account

And Each Stroke Of His Tongue Ripped Off Skin After Successive Skin, All The Skins Of A Life In The World, And Left Behind A Nascent Patina Of Shining Hairs. My Earrings Turned Back To Water And Trickled Down My Shoulders; I Shrugged The Drops Off My Beautiful Fur.

What A Joy It Is To Dance And Sing!

Those Are The Voices Of My Brothers, Darling; I Love The Company Of Wolves.

One Beast And Only One Howls In The Woods By Night.

Nostalgia, The Vice Of The Aged. We Watch So Many Old Movies Our Memories Come In Monochrome.