I see the weary few, their hungry bellies stooping to touch the sandy floor. Come to me, victorious vicious vindictive venomous vehement visages! I will preach my ideals to a generation haggard from carrying the perfumed aristocrats as they bleat peacefully on the working man's tome. I hear the cries of a thousand punished souls, damned for the reason damned are destined to be. Kill me before i rise like the great phoenix created by the mythos of mortal men. I sense the braying of a trapped goat, hear how the ripples of his flesh are torn from their caged celestial prisons. Feel sweet sweat pour down the tapered skin of a man atoning for his glorified deeds pressed in the viscous red liquor of pauper’s blood. Here lies a man whose wisdom stretches before him like the great yolk of time. Sever his head from his body and place it upon the stump of immortal wisdom, sing his praises before the sun kisses his stubbled pale cheek for the last time as the final glint of humanities horrors leave the fading reflections of his rotting corneas behind.