Reality Is A Sound, You Have To

He Stood Against The Wind And Let It Peel Him Clean

Time Isn't Made Of Anything. It Is An Abstraction. Just A Meaning That We Impose Upon Motion.

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.

To Be Running Breathlessly, But Not Yet Arrived, Is Itself Delightful, A Suspended Moment Of Living Hope.

Philosophy - Hopeless. Yet It Gives Me Hope.