Titles are. Other optional things include food, escalators, cousins, migraines. You can do without. Without you are almost entirely surface. Within you are real: nothing is required by the real. Facts are beside the point. Sentenced to be. Ask rhetoric. These days there is nothing to keep you from scattering other than the dark tendrils. Rage is a type of glue. And its opposite–the endless drift, the boat you are, the emptiness that will ferry you hence. When you are vessel, waters sail you. Skin be damned. Despite evening Tao (one page per visible star), direction has always seduced me. Countless times I’ve smashed the compass only to find my North by every next needle released.