It's Well We Cannot Hear The Screams

I Don't Know What It Is I'm Doing. But It's Not That. Despite All Evidence To The Contrary.

There Was A Young Lady Named Mae Who Smoked Without Stopping All Day; As Pack Followed Pack, Her Lungs First Turned Black, And Eventually Rotted Away.

Only Art Means Anything.

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.

I Should Like A Parsley Sandwich. To The Best Of My Knowledge They Are Not In Season.