I don’t want your agreement, and if I shock you, it isn’t for effect. I want something I know. Something I remember. I want something so human and alive that it’s f*ck’ng prohibited, and I want it now, and forever. There’s no context that is safe from my desire. All prisoners go free. We -keep going freer-. I don’t need your applause. I am not a writer. I am an explosion shaped like wings going off in the halls of the underworld and my song will rock the bastions of every prison ever sounded by souls. I don’t care if you like me. I want to wake up. Now. More. We can be respectful; but we might need to be animals, too. Because, you know? We are animals. And we come not from Earth, or even the Sun… we come… from the heart of the sky. We are time’s own face in this liquid eternity. If you knock, I’ll answer. But think about whose door you face.