From Below

"Its superiority over other theosauces lay in the fact that it offered no
payback on some other plane..."

-------"On Murtibingism(the pill)", S.I. Witkiewicz.



A Taylorist nightmare greets eyes on every sidewalk. Hypermendacity
fills the air with frothy waves of noxious foam. Waddling masses lack time 
to mine the gold from melancholy. The ennui of the Bourgeois forsakes
dreams of Nero for the dumbing drone of pharmacandy.
Blue lights shade windowsills of suburbs. Taste and Rhetoric are
orphans. Arbiters hated like petulant old women.
The stars still illume night. Every morning offers up the gold spray of
new possibility. The day is made for lovers. Head high, no mockery, alive 
to be neck deep in this shithole and in love.
The stars can only look down at our darkness. From Below each star is a
sign which, on the black page of night, writes love in light.