I need to destroy things
for them to be real.
I need to self-destruct
in order to feel.
Every murder I conceive, every crime against humanity;
the mountains of decaying corpses that blot out the sun
above the burning fields of my imagination –
these are all for you. I dedicate the endless
depths of my depravity to the memory of our love.
This is for you.
I do this all for you.
I pull the bones of my chest open for you.
I do this all for you.
The murders are all for you.

By Mr. Gosh

Escuchando: Circles Figure 1 – Vladimir Hirsch