A Man Is An Angel That Has

Everything Is True Everything Anybody Has Ever Thought

The Painting Showed A Hairless, Oppressed Creature With A Head Like An Inverted Pear, Its Hands Clapped In Horror To Its Ears, Its Mouth Open In A Vast, Soundless Scream. Twisted Ripples Of The Creature's Torment, Echoes Of Its Cry, Flooded Out Into The Air Surrounding It; The Man Or Woman, Whichever It Was, Had Become Contained By Its Own Howl. It Had Covered Its Ears Against Its Own Sound. The Creature Stood On A Bridge And No One Else Was Present; The Creature Screamed In Isolation. Cut Off By - Or Despite - Its Outcry.

Can We Consider The Universe Real, And If So, In What Way?

Giving Me A A New Idea Is Like Handing A Cretin A Gun, But I Do Thank You Anyhow, Bang Bang.

Madness, Like Small Fish, Runs In Hosts, In Vast Numbers Of Instances.