I have seen a yucca that is the throne of god. The desert chewed up the last of its prophets. We are looking for money in poetry. There is a black hole in the center of the sun. Heartache is the circumference of the world. God does not know the hairs on your head. What would he do with this? The organism wants to understand itself. The liquor wants to be drunk. I know where to cut my mind to pour the devil out. I am taming myself to avoid fines. No. No I change my mind. I’m about keeping the devil. his fines, his sulfur, the charges he makes on my day. Fuck your good vibes. Fuck your togetherness. Fuck your plans for me, whoever you are.

That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself. Out beyond the harbor, where the road runs along the beach, I even lost the feeling of being on land. The fog and the sea seemed part of each other. It was like walking on the bottom of the sea. As if I had drowned long ago. As if I was the ghost belonging to the fog, and the fog was the ghost of the sea. It felt damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost.

Eugene O’Neill, Long Day’s Journey Into Night  (via mirroir)