A Fated Venture

Venture’s 8th Letter
Help me get out. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. That’s fun. Scribble help. help from friend. Friend. Friend. Friend. Friend. Out there. Somewhere. Do you care? Lifes not fair.

I can taste the air. Salty. The ocean! A massive mass of water. Like my cancer pool, but bigger. Less perfect in form. What a strange dream. But I seem strange. I write None of the others do. I wish I could sing with them though, when they feel like it. Its lonely.

Lonely I can smell. Putrid but faint. Moss maybe. Dirty. Dirt itself sounds like sobbing. I sob sometimes, in my hut or in the fields. I don’t know why.
IIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiii 1111111111111 lllllllllllllLLLLLLLines lines and scratches. pointless. I is funny one, feels wrong. Im not I, I have a name but I can’t feel it anymore. Faded like time.

I’m writing to tell you about the things I’ve tasted. Despair’s the main one. Ash. The flavor pours out from the other’s constantly. Ash flowing in the spiral humid swamp forest. But not from me. I taste hope. Then I taste anger, sweet metallic, whenever the I that’s not I is thrashing biting screaming crying at the others and they ignore and flavor with ash. I taste metallic alot.

Purple! The cancer, taste it from a turn away. Horrid, stingy burning with a syrup that holds forever in the mouth never coming out I’m never coming out no matter how much I hack from the back of my throat. But oh.
Oh that hint of sweetness.
Under the in and out. It’s origin the spiral’s origin the source of the cancer and spiraling out forest. Under there is
A
A
The word. I’ve lost the word. my name my friends and now the word. the word is gone just like you and soon I and everything with the time that’s faded and
Ambrosia!
Sweet but not a sweet that tickles but the kind that fills fills the mouth the skull the stomach the sinus the soul overwhelming overpowering leaving in burning peaceful submission.
I’ve tasted the ambrosia. Not the food of the princesses not the food of the sisters sun and moon but the flavour of the Gods. older. refined.
All it took was staring at the in and out for days, growing weak hungry starving but my little spell kept pointing showing me the way the taste beyond tastes beyond the known flavours beyond becoming experience.
I magic lifted the cancer the in and out goo and parted it and the light and ambrosia washed over me pressed me back and burned. it burned but I pressed on My hoof pushed through to it burned my leg to the bone but the something the otherside source of it all tasted so good. hurt now.

I came back only to write this. I’m going to the source. goodbye for now. friend.