Since I Am Not Actually A Real

You're Driving Me Normal!

...being Torn Apart By Far Too Many Loyalties That Could Not Possibly Live Together In The Same Brain.

But As I Have Noticed On More Than One Occaision, Life Itself Is Unfair, And There Is No Complaint Department, So We Might As Well Accept Things The Way They Happen, Clean Up The Mess, And Move On.

Another Dream. Another Long-distance Call On My Phantom Party Line. No Wonder I Had Steadfastly Refused To Have Dreams For Most Of My Life. So Stupid; Such Pointless, Obvious Symbols. Totally Uncontrollable Anxiety Soup, Hateful, Blatant Nonsense.

It's That Moon Again, Slung So Fat And Low In The Tropical Night, Calling Out Across A Curdled Sky And Into The Quivering Ears Of That Dear Old Voice In The Shadows, The Dark Passenger, Nestled Snug In The Backseat Of The Dodge K-car Of Dexter's Hypothetical Soul. That Rascal Moon, That Loudmouthed Leering Lucifer, Calling Down Across The Empty Sky To The Dark Hearts Of The Night Monsters Below, Calling Them Away To Their Joyful Playgrounds.