Raised to expect continuity. Raised on disintegration. Breathing the Christ Dream through a filtered machine--a makeshift crack pipe. Learning to love disorder. Reflecting on the failure of language. You can't stop what is not there. You can't inflict pain on the painless. You can't pray for something that does not exist.

Alone in my mind with a dialogue that agonizes certain personalities in my mind. Would you like to meet them? Would you like to discuss something with them? I need a break. I can't continue the dialogue forever. I'm getting tired. I need a break. Please speak to them. Please let them know that it's alright. That they have nothing to worry about because they succeeded in driving me insane.

I once got a letter from a ghost. Have you ever talked to a ghost? What was its name?

Are you the ghost? are you dead? Is this the digital death? Our final hour . . . and what do we have to show for it but confusion and pain.