I Am Not Like Other People. I

People Were Interesting At First. Then Later, Slowly But Surely, All The Flaws And Madness Would Manifest Themselves. I Would Become Less And Less To Them; They Would Mean Less And Less To Me.

It Is Possible To Be Truly Mad And To Still Exist Upon Scraps Of Life.

I See Men Assassinated Around Me Every Day. I Walk Through Rooms Of The Dead, Streets Of The Dead, Cities Of The Dead; Men Without Eyes, Men Without Voices; Men With Manufactured Feelings And Standard Reactions; Men With Newspaper Brains, Television Souls And High School Ideas.

Something That Never Happens Anywhere At Any Time.

We Are Here To Laugh At The Odds And Live Our Lives So Well That Death Will Tremble To Take Us.