Borne Again Upon The Wings Of Guilt:

I'll spare you, friends;
All the phoenix metaphors and tastefully crafted lies and poorly painted 8-bit landscapes in my pretend world are failing, as usual.
Look on my works, ye Sleepy, and despair.

I have been summoned.

"Three months absent!" their silver tongues slapped.
"Where were you when we needed you most?"

Embarrassed.

It was like returning home, every day, to find things had become better and better while I was gone...because I was gone. My pitiful rage replaced with the finest wit funny can buy. My 140lb. statue of three starving puns in the shadow of a perfectly cut 230lb. marble charm. Where once I had chained a barely feminine punching bag were three cast iron cuties riding cannons shaped like dicks...DICKS! Eventually, the urge to come was severed entirely by the fear of coming.
I just. Couldn't. Come.
But I have not forgotten The Law.

There are no patted shoulders, no gently tousled manes;
Just another hundred days of barely burrowed shame.

I have an almost respectable job coaching children in aquatics.
I am going back to school after three years of failed surrenders.
Do you really want to start this again?



So be it.
It's our funeral.