Where ideas are born and creativity dies.
I’m thinking there must be something better than this. I’m thinking I might go find it.
And yet you experienced the flames of Hell. You can even say what they are like: real, Ending in sharp hooks so that they tear up flesh Piece by piece, to the bone. You walked in the street And it was going on: the lashing and bleeding.
You remember, therefore you have no doubt: there is a Hell for certain.