everything is filled with lies & excuses for more malice. on the train i read the good parts of the malleus maleficarum to the nearly lovebirds. i still should be in sweden. something like phantom limb pains, a sensation basically summing up the majority of my existance. don't fuck with me! i'll teach you new depths to the chasm of alienation. strange fathoms i know all too well; better than all you scattered little apes. than all these scattered, broken images. man i'm glad to have been hurt, the fist that shattered my face. after how many labours was hercules taken seriously? i mean, the enemies of all the world trump a hydra any day of the week, don't you think? what do i know. i often feel like no matter how well i befriend (note: alien) these new york kids, they seem to remain in the dark. identity as logo, my half-offended countance all day. i mean; i'm more than what these silly protocols would say. fuck, these jerks could be to, if they loosened their garter belts. or so the guess work goes! i am rambling; i am drunk & soon for wretched bed.