With heads full of sorrow and hearts void of love the human condition falls weak and losses sight of any form of hope. cowardice replaces our acts of courage, our acts of kindness devolve to the depraved sight of gluttonous amounts of greed, and any chance to love others or ones self are lost in this thick smog of self doubt and self pity. Is this what it mean to be human?, If so, I happily cast aside my humanity.

I am the prodigal son! He who was lost in the spiteful world of literature. I the prodigal son who stands firm with Aergia as my left hand and Algea as my right. I the prodigal son who stands tall with Baudelaire as my back bone for melancholy and misery have become my mistresses. I the prodigal son have returned, oh father forgive me and turn away in horror for I am your son no longer.