w.c.

W.C. I wasn't there, when you spake the oath that binds us... No, you came a bit before my time. Wonder, do i...how a man can call himself such, With at most, an absentee conscience. And at least, a disdain for all that is not himself. Crawl back! to that rotting dank hole from whence you came. Or, shall i, crawl back to mine? Could this be hatred? these gnawing intestines? This cringe, at the screech of your voice? The crawl of my skin, at your mere presence? Dylan said.."you've got a lot of nerve, to say you are my friend." Never, have i felt it to be more true, than as applied to thee. Not that you've done ill particular to me.... Still...your account will come due. And it's my place to call in the chit. For once, i'll relish, not regret, my responsibility. To amend transgressions against those you would enjoin.."call me brother"... May you take your leave with no more friends than self-pity, and loneliness at your side. As you deserve...so you shall receive.... My pity, you have used up, much as the principles you've used for bum fodder.. The very thought of you, enjoins me to pray for the existence of hell.... And the thought of you burning there, admittedly...causes my heart to swell. If indeed it doth exist, dwell you there, evermore, you deceiver, and patron of evil in all it's forms. I will not send you to the locale of such torment... Nor, be lastingly infected with the hatred you foment. Look to me liar...narcissist...braggart...demon, cheat...adulterer, betrayer, purveyor of wares of the beast.. I solemnly point to the course of your descent.