Still-Born

Still-born God, biding his time forever in the cold, damp, wombly valleys of Southern Wales, aka 'The Depths Of Despair'. The Final 'Philoserpher' Of The West.
Born crown-prince of Hell, aka the dreary and poverty-stricken South Wales valleys, I spent an eternity in limbo before arising to take my proper and rightful throne. As we were scaling the almighty steps of the empyreal palace, called the Word, a beast most foul and uncouth, in the garb of a physician, cast itself upon me. The chemical-wielding barbarian known to the slumbering masses respectfully as a 'psychiatrist' slew by dint of overwhelming idiocy what a million petty hours of boredom (and computer games) had only mildly arrested. I linger on merely as a memento to this unhappy happening, worshiping and picking over the ever-fragrant corpses of my spiritual ancestors, such as the great and lonely Friedrich Nietzsche, the wily Leo Strauss, the exquisite fanatic Yukio Mishima, and the electrocuted yet graceful Townes Van Zandt.

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