(All writing published here is owned by me unless cited otherwise.)
We’re up to our eyes in it. We’re breathing it in, soaking it up through our amphibian skins. But we’ll never-ever use it, in all our garbled finesse. This system of things is passing away- things, material matter, our great big candy-colored carousel of passionate feeling and the psychotic absesnce of it. We are rejecting it, crucifying it. I used to promise myself boats and chariots of execution- great fanfare, glory, and pomp. But we’re in it. Up to our eyes in it, we’re breathing it in. Not a carousel, but a sea.