From the notebook

I woke up one morning, years ago, when I was in high school; my brain was burning with a jumble of words that needed to be let out. I reached to the bedside table for my notebook and in the half-light of the early morning, scribbled these words:

The Vat of Twisted Tooth (Truth?) –
The awful speculation

Later when I was more awake, I read back over them. I didn’t know what they meant. Now, 10 years later, I still don’t know.