An ouroboros of teleology and a centrifuge of ideology surrounded by a metastable breeding ground of impulse. Theme and variation, artificial worlds built of the same awful stuff as our own. I want I want I want, yes. Not some breeding ground of vapid hedonism.
All children deserve the right to hate their parents. All creatures deserve a right to reject their God. I want to be a demiurge to my best selves, a goat of mendes to a world that brands good taste into the body in all its subtleties and by every art.