Mythical boar-cat, you heady beast. Why have you turned away?
Your profile, once seen roaming field and meadow, has of late only cast its flickering shadow on the empty halls of mountain goat gods.
You won't find solace lurking in the semi-darkness of untraceable moments no matter how far you retreat.
Your eyes have turned too much on themselves. Whether you toil above or below the unsanctified, craggy ground Zurvan will be your master.
That spiral is not your way out. Only lonelieness lives in the crannies of rotting thoughts.
Uncertainties are repeated at every scale, until the demenishing fruitless design drives you to Spike's basement madness. The spark cannot be put back in!
The nature of Cytherea has grown up abused, molested, so it proves itself with each generation. Zeus, and Cronus before him, were bad men.
So, you cannot simply flee your fellow domesticated swine. You must harden and rise up to lead the slaughter of those unwilling to change.