It Is More Or Less A Given

I Myself Shall Continue Living In My Glass House Where You Can Always See Who Comes To Call, Where Everything Hanging From The The Ceiling And On The Walls Stays Where It Is As If By Magic, Where I Sleep Nights In A Glass Bed, Under Glass Sheets, Where Who I Am Will Sooner Or Later Appear Etched By A Diamond.

The Purest Surrealist Act Is Walking Into A Crowd With A Loaded Gun And Firing Into It Randomly

We All Love Conflagrations. When The Sky Changes Color, It Is A Dead Man's Passing.

The Clouds Were Disappearing Rapidly, Leaving The Stars To Die. The Night Dried Up.

Psychic Automatism In Its Pure State, By Which One Proposes To Express - Verbally, By Means Of The Written Word, Or In Any Other Manner - The Actual Functioning Of Thought. Dictated By The Thought, In The Absence Of Any Control Exercised By Reason, Exempt From Any Aesthetic Or Moral Concern.