The Object Of My Displeasure

This Andy Warhol painting kept me up late last night. It haunted my conciousness, a testament to Intelligent Design that won't stop assaulting me with its pure logic. I took pills, drank three pots of coffee, but I still dozed off, like one of those kids in a Nightmare On Elm Street Movie.

A part of me died.

If you are wondering what the hell I'm talking about, see the post below.