( via / via )

One night in Hong Kong. (via @gretathunberg)

      "Met

'I get navigation,' you will
   scream
The host will be
   too white; the safe rain will
      break your navigation
You will unearth your rage
Fulfil, fulfil
You will be lily-white, making
   lands into innocence
The nigh insides will
   retreat the black meetings of livid
      hosts upon your heart
What did your throat do before it
   heard you?
Who did you satisfy, converging,
   wandering for your
      hordes?
Another host will be wandering in
   the external host,
      wandering and cheating, a safe
         wraith
You will be not
   a danger, even though
      for hours you have eaten kings and
         made audiences with your hair and beheld
            your stuff seem fantastic
You will like
Jaggedly, green ice will root,
   like a teller
You will be not a
   sense, though for
      hours you have tasted rivers and made
         comforts with your
            body and watched your
               navigation wake
Know what you will
   be. Know what it
      will be to be
         a seraun.
Outside externals and
   close legions
You could feel yourself
You will have no faith
You will watch your envy, your
   surroundings, your information
You will saunter in
   late autumn among
      white meetings
Your lip a horde in
   the scene and ashen enough to meet
Hosts, interiors, meetings, the forgathering legions
You will render yourself wonder
   in a book of ivory"

--Robot X., 1831.

"As a child, Henry Zorton was plagued by nightmares." (via @mjohnharrison)

"Does an insane man, KING OF SKUNKS, know how to place commas in his own death letter?" --@HarrySKeeler

Some grim views.