I asked her about some sublimatic fun. She was a goth that was in college, worried about her fingernail polish and other shit like that. She was writing a book about death. In fact, she was infatuated with the topic of death. She studied death, read about death, she visited morgues and cemeteries all the time. She considered death to be the thing that brings balance into the world. She said that death brings harmony. When things get all fucked up and all out of whack, death comes along and straightens things out. It serves a purpose in society, sort of a balancing agent. We naively think of death as being bad, when in actuality death is good. It removes us from the realm of pain and suffering. It sends us back to the realm of the spirit. It is like a free ticket out of lost town. We get on the bus and away we go to another place where things are more clearer. We get joined back with the big universal spirit and we become a part of this big thing, something that is beyond us. We all long to be apart of something that is bigger than ourselves. I think this is just our spirit longing to rejoined with the big spirit. She wearing stripy tights and dark delights. Her love is always gift wrapped and ready for a party. She makes me feel her darkness, a darkness that is deep inside of her. I let my fingers fly over her, like little birds fluttering. I am pecking at her with my beak. She wants to speak, but I have silenced her with a ball gag. I step over her frozen heart and work life and fire into her muscle. I watch it pumping in and out with new life. This is the subjective something that overwhelms our lives. At least we are overwhelmed by our interpretations for a moment. Our movements become a subjective dance. I have given her a vibration that can reach her numbness. I am diverting her attention from the razor blade. When I am done she is in metamorphosis, changing into the nothing. Her will to become the nothing is what makes her perverse. I love her perversity. She is a conquest in the superficial. I participate in her emotional explosions. We are working in Sodom. I am making the unwatchable and she is selling tickets. We spend most days sitting around and talking. We never have any customers. I remember when their used to tourists. It would be nice to have tourists again. Tourists don't care about fascism or fulfilling dreams. They just want to live for the moment, to be entertained, to escape for a little while. Bonnie is good at helping me escape. She unzips me and pulls me out. She strokes me ever so gently. I laugh and tell her that it won't break. She says you would be surprised what I can do with this thing and then she shows me. I was surprised.