Corruption. Retraction. Destruction. Construction. Distraction. Inaction. Contraction. Expansion. Build what is destroyed under cloudy skies when thoughts digress and judgement of someone’s dearth of death is lapped up by hungry dogs smiling all the way. Pant and paint with red squirrel brushes dipped in Cézzane’s oils while the jester juggles his nine angry balls and the fairy princessfloats in mid-air through the flaming red hoop. The wall is built. The celebration begins with green fermented potions to transforms lost souls into poets, artists, musicians, and sad society’s misfits who bring forgotten truth to the New York Times denied quickly by politicians protecting their golden villas from teeming unwashed minions in the Minotaur’s maze. Live in giddy sorrow that can only be denied when we wash our hands in our own warm cruor that frees us to love as the sick destiny of ancient ageless prophecies.