I Felt Like It Needed Some Color

That Was One Thing You Found Out When You Were Stoned, Or Wasted, Or Feverish: That The World Was Always Turning And That Only A Healthy Mind Could Block Out The Sickening Whirl Of It.

I See God Now As An Unimaginative Writer Of Popular Fictions, Someone Who Builds Stories Around Sadistic And Graceless Plots, Narratives That Exist Only To Express His Terror Of A Woman's Power To Choose Who And How To Love, To Redefine Love As She Sees Fit, Not As God Thinks It Ought To Be. The Author Is Unworthy Of His Own Characters.

We'll Have Freedom, Love And Health/when The Grand Red Flag Is Flying, In The Workers' Commonwealth.

The Language Of Sin Was Universal, The Original Esperanto.

I Remember An Era When You Could Get Your Nose Sliced Off For Sticking It Too Far Into Another Man's Business. Now You Can Find Out Anything About Anyone With The Click Of A Button. There Is No Privacy And No Consideration, And Everyone Is Prying Into Things That Aren't Their Affair. You Can Probably Check On The Intertube And Find Out What Color Underwear I Have On Today.