They sprawl on the embankment and watch the chemical fireflies. The leeches and the rotten smell don’t disturb them, for *MDMA gives them wings. Each dismay disappears in the artificial exuberance. Unlike their parents, they can extinguish the day-to-day embers. The celluloid world they create is certainly transient. They loathe wedding. Love is lust for them. A barren existence. Even a wasp vanishes, performing its duty on the earth, but they hunch in the nucleus of hallucination. In the horrible quietude, their cruel thoughts multiply like viruses. The cold-blooded brutes hatch out of their stupor and skulk in the chinks of society. From the latest issue of The Literary Hatchet *MDMA is a synthetic drug.