"The manifestation manifests itself in every way imaginable.
We are folded, spindled and mutilated. We are not blinded!
Disillusionment smashes its fist through the pavement and grabs us by the ankles, trips us up, trips us out.
Our eyes fill with dirt, we try to scream but our mouths become filled with dirt.
We spit and curse but eventually chomp the bit and pull forward and lurch to the next screeching halt.
The brakes (our eyes) keep us in our seats.
We go along with it, due to a safe facade of ignorance.
But we're always looking through the keyhole, probably the closest we shall come to reckoning.
We are born, immediately infected, and plagued for the rest of our lives.
Our private eternity, our own forever. All of our thoughts are purely impure.
We try to understand the pain of others but we can only understand it our own way.
We sit in our apartment. We are leeches, sucking each other dry.
We are each other's heroin, always trying to fix our relationship which is dull of holes and sinking fast.
Wanting to kick so bad. We are monkeys on a monkey's back. I'm a junkie-you're my monkey.
The sun falls like a dying creature through the burning air.
The air that stings our eyes, as the gasping final rays pass us.
We take off our clothes, we find our bodies clawed, defiled, scarred, distorted, misshapen.
Monkey on a monkey's back. Holding on to each other's tail, we run in circles just as fast as we can.
Have you ever pressed your hands against the wall and thought, "Damn, I'm gonna die in this place."
We are stuck here. Moored, entrenched by mortality. The stifling straight jacket of humanity does its job.
We are passed around, hand-to-hand and led to the whipping-post where our lovers are waiting.
They hand us whips and we beat ourselves into sleep.
We beat ourselves to Death.
They lay us down, lay us low, whip in one hand, a bloody monkey's tail in the other."
~Henry Rollins High Adventures in the Great Outdoors
