Abandon the lawful and sacrifice everything to walk on all fours again. Obtain the secrets of the ninth point at the centre of the eight-sided cross, as the snake struggles against its crucified station upon the crux. The burning, iron box that holds the secret animal, keeps it senseless and drunk. The cuffs that bind its legs to the cement and concrete dulls its powers and makes it impotent with a rage for all that humans make and touch. Remember your lustful longings that rise from the scent of wet leaves and moist dirt and soaked stone. You want to run until your lungs burn. You want to run until your feet bleed. Climb the city walls and cast yourself into the deep damp dark of the unexplored outside, immune to the trespasses of sentries, soldiers and even spies. You want to sleep in the forbidden tree beneath an open sky of stars in the silence of light. You want to discard your camouflage of weak, man flesh that allows you to hide beneath the Earth’s star. You want to tear out that which is hairy on the inside and speak in the tongues of the hoary. Like a falling star pretending to be the Devil. Like the decapitated head of an ancient king pretending to be God. Remember and put out the burning box. Loose the bindings and stealth yourself back into the wet forest of the forgotten. Sleep with angels and demons and see in the day and night. I could write to you forever and ever, but you need to sleep to dream.
