Some Tiny Creature, Mad With Wrath, Is

...my Least Favorite Actress Of All Time, Helena Bonham Carter. I Find Her Lack Of A Neck Very Off-putting And Especially Her Acting.

There Was A Young Lady Named Mae Who Smoked Without Stopping All Day; As Pack Followed Pack, Her Lungs First Turned Black, And Eventually Rotted Away.

The Suicide, As She Is Falling, Illuminated By The Moon, Regrets Her Act, And Finds Appalling The Thought She Will Be Dead So Soon.

If You're Doing Nonsense It Has To Be Rather Awful, Because There'd Be No Point. I'm Trying To Think If There's Sunny Nonsense. Sunny, Funny Nonsense For Children — Oh, How Boring, Boring, Boring. As Schubert Said, There Is No Happy Music. And That's True, There Really Isn't. And There's Probably No Happy Nonsense, Either.

Mr Earbrass Stands On The Terrace At Twilight. It Is Bleak; It Is Cold; And The Virtue Has Gone Out Of Everything. Words Drift Through His Mind: Anguish Turnips Conjunctions Illness Defeat String Parties No Parties Urns Desuetude Disaffection Claws Loss Trebizond Napkins Shame Stones Distance Fever Antipodes Mush Glaciers Incoherence Labels Miasma Amputation Tides Deceit Mourning Elsewards.