My Life Is In The Art That

Mutilation Is The Badge That Can Never Be Taken Off, And Sets Us Apart From All Others. Pain Is Important To The Bonding-a Physical Horror That Bonds Us Ever Tighter To All Those Who Have Partaken. The Intensity Of The Experience Helps To Widen The Gulf Between Us And Those Who Have Not Shared.

Those Old Hypocrites. They Talk About Killing Witches But The Good Book’s Full Of Magic. Turning The Nile To Blood And Parting The Red Sea. What’s That If It’s Not Good Old-fashioned Magic? Want A Little Water Into Wine? No Trouble! How About Raising The Dead Man Lazarus? Just Say The Word!

We’re Too Much Ourselves. Afraid Of Letting Go Of What We Are, In Case We Are Nothing, And Holding On So Tight, We Lose Everything Else.

Well, Here He Was. They Could Save Each Other, The Way The Poets Promised Lovers Should. He Was Mystery, He Was Darkness, He Was All She Had Dreamed Of. And If She Would Only Free Him He Would Service Her - Oh Yes - Until Her Pleasure Reached That Threshold That, Like All Thresholds, Was A Place Where The Strong Grew Stronger, And The Weak Perished. Pleasure Was Pain There, And Vice Versa. And He Knew It Well Enough To Call It Home.

Nothing Ever Begins. There Is No First Moment; No Single Word Or Place From Which This Or Any Other Story Springs.