A Singular Order
I am Vlad the Monk, half-mad half-brother of a cruel humanity. The austere debaucheries to which I bear witness are my soul's armor that moves me through this world and on to the next. Even when the next is only that to which I wake each dawn. And always the same stench. My weariness takes its comfort in places where the beer is served too cold and has no head. This is a subtler indicator of the fluctuations in spiritual values than any church census.
I am Half-Mad Vlad. A monk. My laws are unlettered and only half spirited. My bare feet stink of piss and my earsight is slowly failing.
I am Half-Vlad the Mad. Monk. My humanity is a bother, brother. I have returned from afar to find everything different but nothing exactly the same. The fat are now thin and all the tables are turned. Through noise and smoke, and on liquidated legs, I make my rather merry way. Perhaps I am not so mad.
I am, after all, Vlad the Monk.
9 May 2014