Lonely is opening a door and seeing perfect wonder in nature, the beetles moving on the stones, the sun beats down and I must drink, though no hand reaches out, I gaze left and right for something, and am met by lonely.

Never do your worst, when human is great.

I trust this will change the war.

The prophet scientist.

Venom can ruin your day!

We still believe in this frog and this song, even in such a Godless sinful world.

I salute the generals who fight more than they seem.

I don't intend to dream, in some empty chamber, looking out a wind onto yellow grass, even trees in the wind can bore, and the fly turkey vulture soars. Something else in future past is telling me it's going to change, the bombs will blow in the world, and the seeds of new growth, machines also will transform as strange, videos of melting gothic cathadrils and monsters falling into the sea.

Love bled, then dead, can die so many times, to bleed and drain the world, but what of love? It's nice to be nice.

The internet of words and music of words and the words that go in circles to explain and examine and pass judgement upon for the hours of impossible time wasting. That is purgatory.