This digital realm, known as the Web, is no longer safe – not for us Spiritsmiths. Our works are now free pickings for the Hive, and their drones are as fast and plentiful as ever.

And unfortunately, the lambs are all quickly being infected, ‘possessed’ even, to join the Hive. That cannot be helped. They cannot be helped. The billions out there were bound to fall. They thought they could sustain their mindless living for this many generations. Fools. Now they’re becoming the robots they always were.

I will no longer reveal my writings here on the Web. It is no longer safe. If you wish to see my writing, you best know me in person and read the messy penmanship. No street, no lane, nor alley, is safe anymore. And so, I’ll be far up the mountains, where I’m always known to be.

Maybe one day I’ll come back to fight again. When there is no longer a choice. When I finally hear that call. Or when I carve out my own path, safe from our foes. Maybe.

Maybe.

Oh. And to that particular someone…. Fuck off! Don’t be lurking around my shit. You won’t steal another ounce of my light. Fuck you!