Only In Chaos Are We Conceivable.

In The Current Socio-political Climate, He Said To Himself, Committing Suicide Is Absurd And Redundant. Better To Become An Undercover Poet.

The Diseased, Anyway, Are More Interesting Than The Healthy. The Words Of The Diseased, Even Those Who Can Manage Only A Murmur, Carry More Weight Than Those Of The Healthy. Then, Too, All Healthy People Will In The Future Know Disease. That Sense Of Time, Ah, The Diseased Man’s Sense Of Time, What Treasure Hidden In A Desert Cave. Then, Too The Diseased Truly Bite, Whereas The Healthy Pretend To Bite But Really Only Snap At The Air. Then, Too, Then, Too, Then, Too.

The Sky, At Sunset, Looked Like A Carnivorous Flower.

I Kept Having Dreams All Night. I Thought They Were Touching Me With Their Fingers. But Dreams Don't Have Fingers, They Have Fists, So It Must Have Been Scorpions.

They Could Read Him, They Could Study Him, They Could Pick Him Apart, But They Couldn't Laugh Or Be Sad With Him.