Vice Is Nice, But A Little Virtue

More Is Happening Out There Than We Are Aware Of. It Is Possibly Due To Some Unknown Direful Circumstance.

Mr Earbrass Stands On The Terrace At Twilight. It Is Bleak; It Is Cold; And The Virtue Has Gone Out Of Everything. Words Drift Through His Mind: Anguish Turnips Conjunctions Illness Defeat String Parties No Parties Urns Desuetude Disaffection Claws Loss Trebizond Napkins Shame Stones Distance Fever Antipodes Mush Glaciers Incoherence Labels Miasma Amputation Tides Deceit Mourning Elsewards.

To Take My Work Seriously Would Be The Height Of Folly.

Ideally, If Anything [was] Any Good, It Would Be Indescribable.

The Suicide, As She Is Falling, Illuminated By The Moon, Regrets Her Act, And Finds Appalling The Thought She Will Be Dead So Soon.