Thats What The Right-wing Is Good At:

Death Is Another Bar Which Lies Several Steps Below The Normal World. I'm At Its Threshold, But Not Yet In It. Its Doorway Is Doorless.

I Have Become Interested In Languages Which I Cannot Make Up, Which I Cannot Create Or Even Create In: I Have Become Interested In Languages Which I Can Only Come Up Upon (as I Disappear), A Pirate Upon Buried Treasure. The Dreamer, The Dreaming, The Dream. I Call These Languages, Languages Of The Body.

We Get On The Bandwagon In All Sorts Of Ways - You Know Minor Ways And Major Ways - Like What You've Just Encountered Which Isn't Censorship Exactly, It Was Something Sort Of Uglier In A Way.

Love Goes Away When Your Mind Goes Away And Then You're Someone Else.

Perhaps If Human Desire Is Said Out Loud, The Urban Planes, The Prisons, The Architectural Mirrors Will Take Off, As Airplanes Do. The Black Planes Will Take Off Into The Night Air And The Night Winds, Sliding Past And Behind Each Other, Zooming, Turning And Turning In The Redness Of The Winds, Living, Never To Return.