We are Hate, Inc.

There is no depth here.

It smells like gunpowder tonight.

One more. Once more.

Twisting, turning, never resting.

Close to the end now, in many ways.

Love is a glorious burden, and we bear it with gladness.

A cold room and a warm embrace. Two sides of the same coin.

There is a dull buzzing all about; an underlying current of happiness is all around us.

Beauty and dreams, dreaming of beauty.

Time is of the essence, but if it is essential, we already have all that we need.

For miles around us, there was nothing but empty sky and overfilling glory.

A fleeting moment in time, precious and forgotten.

Relax, and decompose. Decompress, and rise again.

Quiet.

We should stay where we are and never change. Variety is the spice of life.