Do you want to know what it is like to have you stomache wrtech itself in to bewildering knots, not even a adtrot sailor has knowledge of. have you seen the night let the day from its clutches and paint its hemorrhaging heart across the morning, that is what hell feels like, when the small sincere child sees the impurity of the world and all that was once beautiful now crumbles away to dirt and ash—a perfect, putrid, vile, evil. I have seen the mirrored midnight compel me to to wonderous things, horrible things, things you can never know, things I will never remember. I painted a picture of blacks and whites, climbing the steps to an illusioned consequential breath--a shawowed perspective for what I realized as a rising success was merely the falling of my chest and all that is lovely only hurts my head. And I asked myself, Jack, I asked myself cold and sober, did you fall in love with the end of the world? To which the answer never came. But wait, slowly, quietly, surely, what is this light that emerges like a maiden from the mist—it is sleep. and behold my escape to a fantastical world of deadened emotion and unscripted reels played over the setting sun of a distant reality. For she was the end of my world, everything that I compartmentalized and hid as a secretive window in a pitch black cell. It was there I could invent. But an apocalypse, a personal apocalypse, changed everthing..