I was sitting in my basement thinking about my attic as I awaited the first bombs to drop in the next world war

I guess I'm pretty lucky to understand that metaphysically nothing really is unless we perceive it is so even death by chemical nerve agents can be a pleasurable experience that we come back for again and again

And that time I died before when the only metaphor would have to be trying to guide a wooden canoe across an active volcano

I can't wait to try that again