Faithful To The Word Given And The

Give To Each Emotion A Personality, To Each State Of Mind A Soul.

It's Not Demons (who At Least Have A Human Face) But Hell Itself That Seems To Be Laughing Inside Me, It's The Croaking Madness Of The Dead Universe, The Spinning Cadaver Of Physical Space, The End Of All Worlds Blowing Blackly In The Wind, Formless And Timeless, Without A God Who Created It, Without Even Its Own Self, Impossibly Whirling In The Absolute Darkness As The One And Only Reality, Everything.

Wise Is He Who Enjoys The Show Offered By The World.

I Crave Time In All Its Duration, And I Want To Be Myself Unconditionally.

The Inventor Of The Mirror Poisoned The Human Heart.