They tell people that they have gifts, that they are special, that they envy their propensity for vision when it is the vision that drives them mad. It is the vision that becomes a burden. It is the vision that finds you sequestered, forced into deprivation and isolation. It finds a prisoner and sets her chemistry ablaze. It will run away at nine and slumber. When it wakes or when it stirs in its sleep, you will never be able to decipher its message. The vision will not liberate but berate you. It will not stop until it is tired. The mind becomes a Trojan horse and it is pregnant with gifts for your daughters and sons who will feel themselves plagued by divinity, too. It is not liberating when you wander the world in shame not knowing why it does not look the same to you as it does to them. It is not liberating when people have the audacity to envy and exploit what they are desperate to perceive as a gift. As a vision. As a revelation. As the awe-inspiring and horrific face of a God that bears sharpened teeth and not blessings. You find psychosis erotic, but it is ugly and primordial. The name of God is the name of Fear and adoration. If you could see and hear the angels you would find them terrible too.