Culture of One

A word is worth a thousand pictures—a contrary view, in this book I did accrue. I withdrew from the life that promised value. I’ll speak till my breath robs my eyes of their hue. In search for answers that you already knew, you are alone; we stand together. Culture of one, your heart weighs more than a feather.

Beat your head against my words. Scrape that mental plaque. Wander from the herd. Chemistry is a dancing flight of tulips, glistening dewy light. We are alone together. Cut the cord; release the tether. You’re looking for a home, a shell, a belly, a cocoon ... a jail made of bone—your mind dancing on a black-tar spoon. Bleach the sky, stain the morrow, hide the moon, blind your shadow. Follow me to yourself. I’m your dynasty; you’re my wealth. You’re so alone; you have no reflection. You are transparent. I see your heart’s pale complexion.

This book will make your mind’s eye blink. Come with me; it’s safe, I think. Inspiration is a tantric drink. I’ll whisper to you through the ink.

You are addicted to achieving the impossible.

Jesus has a sister: the Muse. The Muse is inspiration. The Muse is the result of a compromise made between God and Satan to save Jesus’ life (by design). I met the Muse. I almost died. Twice. She gave me brain damage. I want to return the favor. My mythology documents my journey into perdition.