has returned, it would seem, and not without considerable rust but undeniably he, and forgive me for not slaughtering the fatted calf or baking a cake. and forgive me for not capitalizing as it seems the benefit gained is insufficient when measured against the effort required. and if you were to say that time is run short and any word might be my last and therefore it ought make excellent sense to demonstrate the most care for posterity - I would call you a silly fucker to your face and say you don't get a god damned thing, do you.
all deaths are imminent and only the truly un-alive lose sight of that one truth. but when death flaunts and tickles, chastises and pronounces, when death lays claim by saying we have found a better? and there is no doubt that the better has returned and that this here voice is weaker and less disciplined and ultimately forgettable (remember just yesterday: the laborer; the craftsman, at best). so there is no point to argue, no case to make. the rest is only tears.
so all hail the returning hero. and let us see how early he rises tomorrow. let us see if he has had his fill for now, or if his thirst, unlike mine own, is so easily sated. let us see how soon he chooses bless me with oblivion.