Return to the Hole

Holy shit, the Internet! Did you see my bony horns poking through your collective lawns yester’eve’morn? The rains came and the dirt fell away and my bones grew flesh, sparked to life by the sun’s radiation. I think. Either that or someone has been rebuilding me methodically and just finally hit me with life-nourishing lightning.

I think my brain might have even slithered its way back into Central Command Skull. No longer a corpse in the garden, I have returned, unpromised and uninvited. I’ve cut my toenails and even found my dancing shoes hanging from a wire. If you can’t dance while you write, then what’s the use, eh?

Worry not, sexy strangers and otherwho’s. I am still here, sliding ever so slowly into the poisoned river, but never letting the fish arms reach me where it counts. Lately, my focus has turned to larger things, longer things, things which I hope to reveal once I can find the damn keys what that witch made invisible when I used her familiar as a condiment dispenser.

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