Sometimes Dreams Show Me That My Writing

The One Thing You Share With Every Mortal Is Death.

An Evil For These Times Destined To Move Through The World In Handsome Human Guise.

What Does All This Mean Finally, I Kept Asking Like A College Kid. Why Does It Make Me Want To Cry? Maybe It’s That We Are All Outsiders, We Are All Making Our Own Unusual Way Through A Wilderness Of Normality That Is Just A Myth.

Very Few Beings Really Seek Knowledge In This World. Mortal Or Immortal, Few Really Ask. On The Contrary, They Try To Wring From The Unknown The Answers They Have Already Shaped In Their Own Minds.

Hell's Bells Ringing, My Secret Music.