Forbidden lover’s blood, dripping from the chewed fingernails onto fatigued Persian rugs. Finest cigar smoke, rolling out of bullet holes in the lungs. The high art of bespoke self-destruction.

Tennessee’s most self-rendering play is a petit plantation of his passions and demons. A gospel, praising his purgatory filled with chewed glass, Ramon Fizz and long-legged benzodiazepines swimming synchronously in a pool of Budweiser. Questions of major importance; is there a rainbow land where injustices are mended? Is it in the galaxy of love? Is that why we need to build a colony on Mars?