The Pure Heros there are no more negroes, jews, christians. Our bowels quake in constipated false alarms. We are often naked and nameless in boring rooms with tedious records and toy tops that make colored sparks for drug stained eyes, smelling of weeds.
Ghosts haunt our heads, demons are loose in our spinal fluid.
Somebody cries in a slow motion bag and blows the mind of a skinny, drab redhaired girl freaking out the gathering sending everybody to the icebox checking out the seconal supply. Trust the specialists. And these bodies form hideous cabals where every eventuality comes into the world to argue against what is beyond appeal. You're born a citizen of a nation. A citizen of a nation with rulers who legislate rules commanding you to be free.