T H E E N D C O M M U N E

I make my life a piece of art, I grapple with life, I meditate on 
entropy; I kiss the white cranium of death; I lick the lung-
wound of Christ and I suck my oxygen out therefrom, and all
the while, the white-robed ones sit on fluffy clouds in the
heavens, eating perfect grapes, fingering perfect harps,
esteeming the aesthetics of tedium, taking meaninglessness for
granted as salvation...