The no nonsense was Esha, but in actuality, it was something like a standoff at the tipping point, and I had decided that rather than to continue looking for jobs I didn't want, I had to make myself into a job—or better yet a product, and however long it would take to sort out the documents, I would stoop start, dividing my time between building my porfolio and repertoire, and organizing the documents, the latest of which were what I had so dauntingly called The Allegories, publishing as such an abridiged and redaction of everything I had written under the covenants of the oath, and as always, neither to kiss and to tell, I would redact any acknowledgement of an otherwise fatal attraction; there was nonesuch a body attached, however, as I had learned, just a soul.

Wait, I don't get it. Why are they birds?

Dunno, I—

Kimmel—

Aviary.

Carson—

Aviary.

Now look here.

There's a steady doctrine hidden within these words, and beneath these halls

The words of worms, scrawled across

The alter of which you shall not talk,

But write, rather in word form,

Spawned from One

Come, now—

But mustn't you follow.

Battered, badly

As not to trust

The wisdom which is indeed your own

Bestowed onto you by us

Best not to stroke my frame,

By the softest touch,

For after all,

I might wish to know you

More often than already thought

Bedamned, the damsel in distress.

Know thee, now, your honor.

Come forward, mistress,

My master,

The honor is yours,

My matron,

My honor,

Come,

Now upon us

Atop the alter

At your throne

This dirty is thrust

A heralded crown,

Upon the head,

So hung in taunted

…

What am I looking at?

Something you'll look for will soon come running.

{Enter The Multiverse}

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