A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.


Forged in the eternal genetic stew of my Celtic homeland, surrounded by the sea of rotted wood and rusted metal painted over and gilded in lying gold; the cancer on the earth that is city where once I hunted as she fed me to brink every night from her suckling teat and I grew lean from perversions and diversions to many to remember – now I am trapped by that same mother whore as I am fed upon by youth so strange in mind and visage, a true generation of changeling I struggle to comprehend to bridge any gap and reclaim something of my former stature. Inherited the twin creative fires of art and madness I am now just one more link in the corroded chain, one more minuscule cog in the urban machinery lubricated in the very lifeblood of our youth who gleefully inject themselves with the same glittering addictant now killing me.

  • Joined: June 2009

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