Evil Is A Point Of

We’re Going To Die And Not Even Know. We’ll Never Know, And All This Meaninglessness Will Just Go On And On And On. And We Won’t Any Longer Be Witnesses To It. We Won’t Have Even That Little Bit Of Power To Give Meaning To It In Our Minds. We’ll Just Be Gone, Dead, Dead, Dead, Without Ever Knowing!

Dear God, Help Me. Do Not Forget Me On This Tiny Cinder Lost In A Galaxy That Is Lost–a Heart No Bigger Than A Speck Of Dust Beating, Beating Against Death, Against Meaninglessness, Against Guilt, Against Sorrow.

I Do Want To Go Another Way - To Write Something Completely Different.

When We Are Weary, We Speak Lovingly Of Dreams As If They Embodied Our True Deisres-what We Would Have When That Which We Do Have So Sorely Disappoints Us

Without Memory There Can Be No Insight. Without Love, There Can Be No Appreciation.