I can't tell you what to fear. So she sang a dirge to make me feel better. Where is the crime? Souls devoured at an accelerated pace. The maker remade. His heart is made of noise. Devour the detour. Enmeshed. I can't tell you what to think just that it should be what I am thinking otherwise I will be forced to destroy you because you are in the way of me and my reactive mind. Perhaps it ran a little long but I had no choice. No concept of a pause. No cessation. Not to be taken lightly. Why do you come here? Here is nowhere yet you are here. Waiting. What is it that you are waiting for? There are no revelations here only loneliness and a gun. The saddest story he ever wrote. He cannot right what is not right. The streets are not alive tonight. Perish. Famished. Lay him out to dry in the sun.