Reality Is A Sound, You

No One Will Ever Make Necessity Not Happen.

You Remember Too Much," My Mother Said To Me Recently. "why Hold Onto All That?" And I Said, "where Can I Put It Down?

The Beloved's Innocence Brutalizes The Lover. As The Singing Of A Mad Person Behind You On The Train Enrages You, Its Beautiful Animal-like Teeth Shining Amid Black Planes Of Paint. As Helen Enrages History. Senza Uscita.

I Am Kind Of A Curmudgeonly Person, So I Don't Gravitate To Groups Or Traditions, Which Is Probably Just Pretentious Of Me.

The Man Has A Theory. The Woman Has Hipbones. Here Comes Death.