from Hell's "Dear Reader," w/ art by Omaha Perez, in Raw Periphery

a page from "Dear Reader" in Raw Periphery #1

The text reads:

     "I know what you mean, but this deleriousness of yours--I think you're just getting cheap thrills--overcoming your insecurity by pretending we're two-dimensional--fictional--characters."

     "Me too."

     And so forth, with the awareness and intelligence that enables you to accomplish your invariably good intentions.

     In your sense of lucky grace and spirit of generosity, you and your double/opposite slowly graduate from the innocent to a form of play which, in your profound grasp of each other's character, is designed to satisfy certain dark desires which, never before acknowledged aloud, existed until now primarily as varieties of secret pain.

     God has suddenly said, "Raise the curtain," and the surface of the entire landscape has lifted back and risen away to reveal the wriggling, pulsating, glistening, and ineffably exhilirating components of being. That which is self-justifying and infinite in such a way as to make any question an example of human failure.

     You and he are gods and your hesitation regarding each other vanishes in the mutual acknowledgement of your grasp of the situation.

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