Pathetic Labor

Run, and never come back. The hour is upon you. Never come back. The measure of your failures is the sum of what you are. Where will you fly, child? Far beyond my reach? How will you fly, child, so fast and so far that you might outpace the sun? Who in his right mind would go on with this pathetic labor, long after hope and beauty are gone? You've lost everything. Go, break your back. Grind your face in the dirt. You asked and you'll receive. Here is watered wine, given to you in scorn. Swallow it down until you choke, and die in a corner, a martyr without a god. Who in his right mind would go on with this pathetic labor, after everything? Come, come, surrender to the weakness of the moment. Bow down and become empty. I'll give you all you need, and take everything you are. Raise your head up high. Close your searching eyes, and open your mouth wide. You're nothing but a slave. Who in his right mind would cast off his every dream to go on with this pathetic labor, after everything?