Count Dracula Had Directed Me To Go

If The Garden Of Eden Really Exists It Does So Moment By Moment, Fragmented And Tough, Cropping Up Like A Fan Of Buddleia High Up In The Gutter Of A Deserted Warehouse, Or In A Heap Of Frozen Cabbages Becoming Luminous In The Reflected Light Of Roadside Snow.

It Is A Violation Which Has Obsessed The Tyrants Of The Twentieth Century. They Do Not Want Simply To Kill Their Opponents, But To Liquidate Them, To Deny That They Have Ever Existed.

For You Where Never My Blood Sister So No More Shall I Call You Little Sister

I Would Like People To Come Into My Dreamworld And Then Choose To Stay.

Once One Habit Peels Away The Others Follow It. You Have To Hold On, Or The Next Thing You'll Find Yourself Parading Down The Street In Your Nightdress. Habit Is Everything.