By some stroke of misfortune, you've arrived here; the pit, the void's trash compactor, the word zoo, the linguistic looney bin, all other manners of unsettling adjectives that can be shoved like a stake through the heart of the notion of "good" writing. Everything here was spilled profusely out oscillating fingers, wide eyes and a rattled mind. Sense and logic was taken round the back and shot between the eyes, its services were no longer required. The corpse is still lying out there, emanating the putrid miasma that reeks off the normal. I won't be touching that cadaver for a while, not until the vultures have picked the bones clean and then I can add the remains to my closet full of skeletons. Crude and bestial experiments with insanity, abusing it like some dangerously fantastic narcotic have produced the words which are clawing down the eyeballs and into that zone of the brain where repulsion is the pervading force.