Some Events Are In The Area Of

I Alone, As The Sharer Of Their Way Of Life, Presented A Replica Of Childhood.

Each Day I Lacerated Myself Thinking On Her, But I Didn't Go Back.

Billboards, Billboards, Drink This, Eat That, Use All Manner Of Things, Everyone, The Best, The Cheapest, The Purest And Most Satisfying Of All Their Available Counterparts. Red Lights Flicker On Every Horizon, Airplanes Beware; Cars Flash By, More Lights. Workers Repair The Gas Main. Signs, Signs, Lights, Lights, Streets, Streets.

Some Events Are In The Area Of The Soul Where Words Cannot Penetrate.

I See No Greatness In My Self...i'm A Simple-minded, Child-like, Insipid Sort Of Moronic And Kind Of Akward Feeling Adolescent.