Reservoir page 9

So it is of little form the soul transcribed by limb to font with little thought and foolish woe we cast forth whims to place in form what ought not be. This chamber of fools lingering in search of absolution riding out the monotonous in a halfwits guise of cool. Slumber is retreatism, ignorance is retreatism, every act retreatism, all emotion is retreatism and yet extinguished remains the flame that demands existence. And yet here we are but hallow actors bent with lips to knee and head to hand in honored trust we humbly give and take the world does its lot. I would if I had but one ounce of merit dance upon the widow maker and bellow at the butchers cry before the slaughter of a lamb. Laughing hysterics garner little profit from the mad and living out side societal norms demands retribution. Blood for kin or blood for sin, blood to rue whats right and damn a twilight yet to bring back normalcy to this ruin deemed life.

Aye my brother you see not by the clarity of the goddess yet what chance has though raised by pigs and thrust from the womb by a collared fool. Left in your cackiling was the world and you claimed your feelings meant a great deal yet still the monarchy is gone, your worth forfit, your claim no more legit than that of a popper. If ever naivity spawned you my dear would be no more than a babe at its tit, nay you'd be the decay spewed fourth at end of day from its bowels. Ready tomorrow for you have spent days in the shadows of others, ready for when you stand and no longer head the words of tyrants, Ignorance is thy comfort and cling to it you must, should you find truth in fiction then dream a bit longer till life be snuffed from flesh and wrung upon the cliffs of thy own bastardly sin.

friend, brother a little kindness please. I am but in shambles and you my strength cast me to the whim. I have no penance should wrong you have I, do not sacrifice my heart when in your hands it is, strike me down and as a wounded mongrel i will lick thy heel. You are my hope, that which I have sought and yet still seek, all that Ive earned was yours and yet you condemn me with such distrust, Casting stones at heaven you break the wings of angels and tempt damnation yet still I follow you, I breath in your air to know of life and cause for living.

Whimpering baboon, soft hearted wretch, contempt is all that can be raised when looking upon your riddled frame. Your treason demands execution but the dullness of my blade is far too great an honor for so lowly a dog. go forth and sow your youth with harlots and beggards, dwindle your coin in mirth and sully your flesh with your kind. Know that we never knew one another, know that the past is nothing more than a reality you shant recall, commit to this and spare your life, yet speak again and taste oblivion.