I Can Get Pissed Off Very Easily.

We've Forgotten Much. How To Struggle, How To Rise To Dizzy Heights And Sink To Unparalleled Depths. We No Longer Aspire To Anything. Even The Finer Shades Of Despair Are Lost To Us. We've Ceased To Be Runners. We Plod From Structure To Conveyance To Employment And Back Again. We Live Within The Boundaries That Science Has Determined For Us. The Measuring Stick Is Short And Sweet. The Full Gamut Of Life Is A Brief, Shadowy Continuum That Runs From Gray To More Gray. The Rainbow Is Bleached. We Hardly Know How To Doubt Anymore. (“the Thing”)

After A While, Though, Even The Deepest Sorrow Faltered, Even The Most Penetrating Despair Lost Its Scalpel Edge.

Not Only Did I Rediscover Every Experience Of My Life, I Had To Live Each Unfulfilled Desire As Well—as Though They’d Been Fulfilled. I Saw That What Transpires In The Mind Is Just As Real As Any Flesh And Blood Occurrence. What Had Only Been Imagination In Life, Now Became Tangible, Each Fantasy A Full Reality. I Lived Them All—while, At The Same Time, Standing To The Side, A Witness To Their, Often, Intimate Squalor. A Witness Cursed With Total Objectivity.

Because There Was Only One Thing Worse Than Dying. And That Was Knowing You Were Going To Die. And Where. And How. (“death Ship”)

In A World Of Monotonous Horror There Could Be No Salvation In Wild Dreaming.