High and mighty, smacked up on cocaine and brandy. A young girl would collapse in the corridor in a fit of laughter, and I would be right by her side. She'd close her eyes and smile as she sees the millions of speckled colours on the roof of her eyelids. “How can girls this pretty take drugs?” I would say to her, “Each time you get affronted with the masses of babbles and resentfulness of misgivings, lie down and think awhile. Listen.” I’d stagger, and speak with a slur while I’d try to back my grounds up with logical reason, “It should turn you away from the dark depths of a social heretic, as myself.” She'd smile and whisper, “Man makes holy what he believes, as he makes beautiful what he loves.” -L.A.Matthews
