shades of rose dye the draperies, the speaker hangs his head like a limp marionette. the hands of the clock stand like a flower wilted by frost. this is my favorite audience.

gaping mouths are the best results. it’s hard to clear that image from my mind. or the pungent aroma of cotton twill pants soiled with urine.

how astute is your sense of revolution? can you smell the pyres of democracy burning flesh and oil, dusting the catacombs with the rubble of ancient forts and watchtowers?

history is smeared with history, and rats are my favorite vector. the end has come,

they have invaded to liberate you all of this mortal prison.