Ontic reality is shot through with fantasy. Nothing appears that is not a projection. Nothing happens that is not a rationalization. I am ruled by fantasy and habit in my relations to others, who are ruled by fantasy and habit. We form constellations of order and rank, dominance and submission, lust and contempt. This is the Alimony of YLYLCYN.
SHEYMN is something different, something unspeakable as it simultaneously is the most shameful, the most sacred and the most pathetic and wretched. Could there be a SHEYMN without YLYLCYN? It is certainly not more real, we can be sure of that. SHEYMN pulses and bleeds, slurping and aching. Or rather it is a cave inside of which The Genesis Caul lives - and it is the Caul that does the aching.