Cracks the heart right in two, right in two. I’ve opened letters like that. I’ve sat at the crucible and played it like a piano. And it really does warm the fingers. Like a hand shake with Satan. I have devised a plot, a plot to remedy the shark bite. I stand here bleeding to death and I may actually catch a cold and die as the blood puddles below me. Stand tall and be smart. The gift is the hand shake against all unnerving, all undead. The undead do not shake hands. And journeys do not always end in silence. Some with a crash. And home is made of splinters of wood, that get stuck in the hands and arms. Blood, blood flowing unseen, behind the scenes, like hardcore. Like a mail delivery. We will live as visioneers, siding with the winners every time, against all tyranny.