Laying there perfectly still I could see myself sink down through the floorboards. Through each level of elevation until I reached that raw earth, and through that until I reached the Earth’s Silent Core. I asked myself why it was me who was sent inside there and if it was from inside there that I could now regain my vigor. My will. Once I had a child. A boy. He ran throughout the woods.

The doctor came in with a swaggering gait. He was dressed in a blue coat and Hessian boots.

—Ah… Mr. Bacchio? Is that your name? He shuffled through papers which were clipboarded to a plastic tablet. You’ve drank an extreme amount of alcohol.

—I had been given Carte blanche.

The doctor raised his left eyebrow like a moon.

—The threshold of human vitality was pushed to its utter limit. My colleagues are now raving in the next room-

And then with a mute curving of the lips following his intonation of the letter m, the idiot doctor had waned back under a cyrene light. For as long as I can remember I have asummed my prayers to fall on deaf ears… A Prayer is the one thing that can never be taken from you, other than the moment, and your past, and even mine would now become an Exodus when I found myself grappling with the Lion of Death. Even never having studied crosses or hymns or the passionals of the saints. Well I have never been a Spirtual Man. I have rather been to say a Man of Spirits. And I’ve not always paid my dues..or held myself back from thrashing at men on the streets. We feel in one world and drink in Another. So to Whomever or Wherever it may concern: I throw myself. And wherever it is I land, Gather me up and Roll me back again. And roll me back again, I mantra’d. Spring me from Eternity. Across my knuckles and onto the backs of my hands. And so it was as if at my own command that the God of Will had sunk me back from his lotterial charm.

And I Immediately started sputtering at the Bluecoats with ungodly noises.

—Get….mm.m…. .. …ighgmm…..… HURRY… …absinthe… I spat wildly with eyes nearly turning back in my head.

—I’ve never seen anything like this.

—Those are specific kinds of inarticulate grunts said one doctor quietly to another. Infuse Glucose and Charcoal at 5 kilograms a minute.

And with a grand draft—the emergence of some Nobility had pronounced itself.

—Oh, To the damning shame of this facility! exclaimed the affluent child who had now entered the room, feathered along with an older, and stouter women who had remained silent and moved with a strange and operatic poise. This derelict looks like he’s to Burst!

My face, at that moment, was held between two twisting yellow eyes and a cerebral palsy clench of the jaw.

—Step away from him, You can’t be back here. This man is alive.

—These sounds! Displays of affront. The boy was taking photos. This hospital is now under investigation by The Saint Society of Humane Dignity and Fair Play. Do all of you have your credentials? And indicate your full names upon this napkin.

Elenor began putting on a pair of white gloves.

—What is this? The doctor was squinting at a yellowed cloth.

—I am a well known Socialite and Reformer by the name of Oliver Aimes. And this is my patron, Elenor Seltzerbottom. He snatched the cloth back from the Doctor. This hospital will be demolished by the wave of my finger. He paused for a moment and then pointed directly at me. Those sounds… are Lurid.

—Those inhuman noises are standard for this procedure.

An Intern began performing a full buck and wing tap dance routine and mimes pulling out my heart.

—Is THIS standard for the procedure??!!! The Altruist roared.

A tube is sent through me. I can not feel anything. The child and his patron are ushered out of the room and there is a faint but sweeping grunt heard from around the bend. Suddenly a plump and rather frustrated-looking man in a tightened uniform lumbers in from towards the doorway.

—Did someone in here order a pizza?

One of the Older Doctors raises his left eyebrow.

—Yes said The Intern, waltzing. Set it down right here. On top of this man.

What Eden have I sought to elude, throwing my lampstand—my being, my eyelash falling, a proposal towards the motion of the fleeing of the clockhand’s fix, night aching with the illation of eau-de-vie, the Inferno flickering between my eyes a cascading hope for youth sustained. Dulce periculum. You’ve had wilder bouts. Dontdiehereonthisbedwiththesepeopleallstaringatyou. Put your lampstand back in its place, the sand of your eyes, and these days of Saturnalia. Find you a decent wife at Church and a respectable job at The Factory. A drink is a drink. A mooncalf and a half. A pool that swallows.

—He’s dead.

And with that which resides deeper than the rest of our mental or physical means, I summoned life and all of that strength which sprinkles by each hand.

Like black gold thrown onto a body of water.

—No he’s not said the Offical Idiot Doctor in Training. He just regained vitals… But get him out of here, he has no money.

The kind doctors push me out into the street.


The next morning there was a calm above planes. Crossed in the sky, the stirring of past ages and chrism hues transversed of daybreak from cold dreams. The dawn: a candlemagnet which pulls together all of mankind towards the Earth’s center and we were at the Earth’s center reaching out and sparking that candle from the wick of its brightest star. I felt it near me and beneath every cobbled step as I walked back past the Pub. And I ceased to exist. I was only stretching, towards this rumhouse born both behind and ahead of us, in a waxful and merciless shape. A black goblet raising slowly like a ship. Swooning, the dovelet of desire which I imbided like a treasured womb. Full into my hopeless essence.

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