Death Is The Mother Of Beauty.

English Words Are Like Prisms. Empty, Nothing Inside, And Still They Make Rainbows.

The Abyss Is Full Of Reality, The Abyss Experiences Itself, The Abyss Is Alive.

And Therefore I Looked Down Into The Great Pity Of A Person’s Life On This Earth. I Don’t Mean That We All End Up Dead, That’s Not The Great Pity. I Mean That He Couldn’t Tell Me What He Was Dreaming, And I Couldn’t Tell Him What Was Real.

[the Doctor] Peeked Into The Trauma Room And Saw The Situation: The Clerk - That Is, Me - Standing Next To The Orderly, Georgie, Both Of Us On Drugs, Looking Down At A Patient With A Knife Sticking Up Out Of His Face. 'what Seems To Be The Trouble?' He Asked.

In My Writing, I Want To Be Laid Bare As A Human Being.