This world is a mish-mash of secret messages, and if you’re reading this then you must also have run out of time and energy to learn new languages.

The voices that used to be all in our heads are out now, and the idea that your demons are yours and yours alone was never really true. Your inner monsters run free with mine, leaving oily handprints on the sides of buildings, but are communicating with unnerving degrees of progress.  The grunts turned into pictures and the pictures got captions and the words in those captions words developed newer, more clever meanings that were also coded surrealist punch lines-- because let’s face it, every day we wake up with one fewer way to delay the ebbing insanity that is the penalty for living on someone else’s land, on someone else’s dollar, being sold a bunch of stories to distract us from the ugly carpet of people beneath our feet.