I Want To Make A Poem Of

Pain, I Came To Feel, Might Well Prove To Be The Sole Proof Of The Persistence Of Consciousness Within The Flesh, The Sole Physical Expression Of Consciousness. As My Body Acquired Muscle, And In Turn Strength, There Was Gradually Born Within Me A Tendency Towards The Positive Acceptance Of Pain, And My Interest In Physical Suffering Deepened.

The Most Appropriate Type Of Daily Life For Me Was A Day-by-day World Destruction; Peace Was The Most Difficult And Abnormal State To Live In.

..and Certain That Life Consisted Of A Few Simple Signals And Decisions; That Death Took Root At The Moment Of Birth And Man’s Only Recourse Thereafter Was To Water And Tend It; That Propagation Was A Fiction; Consequently, Society Was A Fiction Too; That Fathers And Teachers, By Virtue Of Being Fathers And Teachers, Were Guilty Of A Grievous Sin.

He Was In A Room Of The Gesshuuji, Which He Had Thought It Would Be Impossible To Visit. The Approach Of Death Had Made The Visit Easy, Had Unloosed The Weight That Held Him In The Depths Of Being. It Was Even A Comfort To Think, From The Light Repose The Struggle Up The Hill Had Brought Him, That Kiyoaki, Struggling Against Illness Up That Same Road, Had Been Given Wings To Soar With By The Denial That Awaited Him.

A Father Is A Reality-concealing Machine, A Machine For Dishing Up Lies To Kids, And That Isn't Even The Worst Of It: Secretly He Believes That He Represents Reality.