Be macho, ready for a new life. There's nothing but wreckage on the highway, a bloated cow with a bellyache in the pasture, a shotgun blast for Hemingway, extravagantly neurotic inside a casket, a sharp ink pen cuts through the paper like a stabbing Glasgow gang knife. Everyone wants love or to solve some mystery and there isn't one, love is a slow pain, it's terminal, you'll eventually find emptiness and prosy writing with most people, people scream in silence, a broken fish tank, lavish artwork mosaic, a bright yellow bowl of pink brains and red blooms dot the funeral home walls, hair curled with ill-health, somewhere far away on a pier, a young woman sits alone.