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All we want is to be loved. Language is subordinate to the meaning that attends it, channelled most clearly through tone more than words. A world without tongues is a world where love still dwells. Love speaks preconsciously, emanating from one's every pre-linguistic gesture. The task is to return love to consciousness, to take a hold on it, to apply will to it, to place the self back in it. Affective love, which works exclusively with feelings, is a primitive quality; loving in this way, a handful of individuals to the exclusion of the rest of the world, makes man no different than the animals. And a god loves with his will.

Two Minutes

The parasites who smile faintly, fondling souls
That contain our screaming thoughts.
Well-dressed, well-liked, like politicians
Turning depth of life to pundit-pander,
And all that's left is a thin cage from which
To chain our meandering madness.
For only the mad live, asylums thrive,
And the sane are dead already.
Scream with me.