Preface . . .
This is my divinity. I’m not sure what has gotten into me. Perhaps, I’m possessed. I’m like an obsessed mess seeking my progress, and it’s a conquest I intend to vanquish because I persist like big business advertising to the mindless with sex and violence. I’ve just woken up to this and I’ve only been born to exist. I am but a humble servant to this word that pours from my thoughts and onto the page and floods this book with wave after wave of this something I crave but can never name or face it away.
However, the paper is binary and that’s just a code found inside of a node in a circuit of zeros and ones that connect to the one where the writing is done and added to the sum. Information is stored in a virtual ward where every word I record is kept in a hoard and the time I afford never equals its reward but rather, leaves me assured that my service in words is bound to be heard as long as the writing occurs. I am a poet in the business of words and words are, indeed, divine. Upon these pages, I leave you mine.
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