Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
’Tis the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur,—you ’re straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.
-Emily Dickinson
Sounds Like
"A bohemian cluster-fuck of ambient noise and harmonic symmetry. Dancing with devils and the zombie known as Jesus; city views in sight and underbelly groans. Running into worst fears, nightmares and the inner demon exercising in all. A blues tinged dirty room."
I’m having a bad time at camp. Why did you send me here in the first place? You don’t know how hard it has been here. Let me come home early. I will tell you some reasons why I want to come home.
First, everyone here is mean to me. The counselors beat me everyday and sometimes while I’m sleeping. I can’t sleep because of it. The counselors should be arrested.
Second, there is no pool here, only a crocodile pond. The kids are very mean like the counselors. They don’t flush the toilets or let me play with them. Please let me come home, I hate it here.
