Come inside my private world,
The tortured mind of a little girl.
Come inside and you will see,
What Hell is for me.
Just you try to leave my mind,
Without leaving your's behind.

Unique union, power-passion-pointlessness. Sweet Saint Sanity of the Enunciation tripping, falling, laughing down the deep dark pit to the abyss. Mother Sanity, Abess of the convent full of mirrors, convex, fun-house reflections giggling in my head--Kopf--Kampf, Verstand? Fer sure, swirl little mistrel children singing ballads of the ballast pulling down and down the slippery slide, like the hemoglobic-hemophillic-hemo-phallic gush, pulse, beat, call, cry o f life within, without, with thought turned upside down like one of those plasic gizmo's full of oil and water that dripping, slowly falling, swirling when you turn them over. Like the lava lamp of lust and longing and living and dying and trying and smi ling and laughing and crying inside the Collective Madness. Deranged? Not so! Lucid doesn't mean placid and it doesn't mean calm--lucid pools of icy fire--a massive conflaguration of energetic particles, approximately 17GeV, collison, creation, and mut ual anihaltion.