The Wolf Howled Under The

I'm Now Making Myself As Scummy As I Can. Why? I Want To Be A Poet, And I'm Working At Turning Myself Into A Seer. You Won't Understand Any Of This, And I'm Almost Incapable Of Explaining It To You. The Idea Is To Reach The Unknown By The Derangement Of All The Senses. It Involves Enormous Suffering, But One Must Be Strong And Be A Born Poet. It's Really Not My Fault.

My Wisdom Is As Spurned As Chaos. What Is My Nothingness, Compared To The Amazement That Awaits You?

Misfortune Was My God.

I Am Alone In Possessing A Key To This Barbarous Sideshow.

The Wolf Howled Under The Leaves And Spit Out The Prettiest Feathers Of His Meal Of Fowl: Like Him I Consume Myself.