I offer no apoligies for what you see, read or hear on this blog.
I do not pretend myself a poet or storyteller, for it is not I who writes these words. I am merely but a vessel. In the deepest despair and only in the sweet embrace of vice, does The Charlatan dare appear. Only then does he ever put his pen to paper, ever more eloquently than I ever could, to expunge our demons through his prose.
Why are you still here? Don’t you know I’m the poison in your veins? I’m the cancer growing in your skin, the hand ripping your heart out. Run away. Run far far away. I don’t want you to understand me. If you understand me it means you’re in the same fucking hole. Don’t you dare let me drag you here. I won’t have you buried beside me. - The Charlatan
