What Happened Casually Remains -

It Took The Whole Of Creation To Produce My Foot, My Each Feather: Now I Hold Creation In My Foot. Or Fly Up, And Revolve It All Slowly - I Kill Where I Please Because It Is All Mine. There Is No Sophistry In My Body: My Manners Are Tearing Off Heads - The Allotment Of Death.

It Took The Whole Of Creation To Produce My Foot, My Each Feather: Now I Hold Creation In My Foot.

Where Are The Gods The Gods Hate Us The Gods Have Run Away The Gods Have Hidden In Holes The Gods Are Dead Of The Plague They Rot And Stink Too There Never Were Any Gods There’s Only Death

And As If Reporting Some Felony To The Police They Let You Know You Were Not John Donne.

You Are Who You Choose To Be.