Curse Ye, those foul and fetid winds that have blown my rotted visage unto thine doorsteps. Curse ye, the rolling thunder and the striking lightning for upon their bones and breath do I ride into your arms. Curse ye, the velvet blackness of night, the slithering slickness of shadows, and the icy moon light that now drips upon your breast and brow.
I am silent but you hear me speak. You are blind to me but you see me well with not your eyes.
There is something like the vibration of the spider's web that connects us, somehow.
All the world is a stage. You are the star.
