Hunt for sport like the predator
Direly in need of editors
All the best ones disinterested in my head’s contents
Or dead themselves, gone to the haunt place our footfalls keep time for
I am asked to take the floor and despite my near-worshipful adoration
Of the work we have carried out together, I am in no fit state to deliver a speech
In fact, I suppose I will be carried out of here later lain on a stretcher
Nothing goes on forever, infinity is not something a man can measure.
He cannot recollect with perfect clarity his own memory
No celerity given him yet bestows upon himself much celebrity
Creature celebrated by the creator and all heaven’s denizens
If only truth was so bombastic as to be wholly true, in heaven flew
Angels who in treachery outshine Judas, 30 piece shining shoeless.
Alchemisland 
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