Why me? Why the fuck is this all pouring into me, what am I supposed to do with it? Where should it all go,where does it fit? Am I so chained to logic and reason that I expect this to rhyme and make sense or meter?

Am I just a damned conduit, why can I never rest at peace, why must such terrible beauty have to course like a heady draught through my veins?

With whom can I share such wonderful madness, who else can see such a world as I in all its awful majesty, how do others blind their eyes to such exacting fury, a pitiless wonder that scorches me so brutally and beautifully.

These mad wide eyes, at moments such as this want to be quite shut, but they stare instead at the sun, and burnt though they be, they blink not no matter the pain of such dreadful comprehension.

Shiny pale ghosts with golden shouldered hair tumbling in tresses smile thinly in this night as they wonder at my awful countenance. That such a dismally born day could grow into this! For pitys sake, how can I wear much more of this beauty unfolding beneath my gaze like rabid silks?

yechydda,