The sickly hours draw near. I’ve been out on the prowl; feasting with Panthers and laying with the low. Life bleeds out from the clenched promiscuous regions. This seed, the gift of our benefactor, was spilled on vulgar ground. A menagerie of brightly polished fossils perch four and twenty deep on a blackened bow. Each is perfectly honed to provide keen edges a man could shred his soul on. That