1600

The wind was blowing like the roar of a thousand collapsing worlds in the tear of timespace, and my love was lost unto me in the void, the soundless void of my heart. Hark. Doth thou knowest where the laughter has gone? The birdsong? From whence shall the sun rise and set in the foreverblack? Words! O' words, come unto me myself in the dying of the daylight nighttime time and relieveth my sorrow. O' pain! The pain so like the ripping of my anal fissure, blood plopping into the diarrhea-filled backsplash-bowl. And then some cunt blew me and I found ten dollars.