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I didn't write this for you. I simply grew tired of your poxy tongue scratched legends. I grew tired of how you snivel and abase yourselves for a Father who abandoned us long ago. You mistake stone for safety, fire for warmth, and hope for wings, instead of the coil that squeezes. You avert your gaze from the turn and huddle, pray for the day-star to return-forget that its light burns.I write this for all my brothers who howl still, for flesh ...

I didn't write this for you. I simply grew tired of your poxy tongue scratched legends. I grew tired of how you snivel and abase yourselves for a Father who abandoned us long ago. You mistake stone for safety, fire for warmth, and hope for wings, instead of the coil that squeezes. You avert your gaze from the turn and huddle, pray for the day-star to return-forget that its light burns.I write this for all my brothers who howl still, for flesh ...