​A flash type a thing

My presence haunts the studio like a sulking spirit that doesn’t know how to take up space.

With slithering awkwardness taking up lodging in its insides, the material of its entire contents—

that of which is like mushy and squelching worms packed into a box and too afraid to touch one another.

It meanders the halls and does not dare to meet a soul in the eye.

A strange, pitiful thing and a thing to be either dreaded or perplexed by-

whose reputation proceeds itself,

for accomplishing feats

that make it seem far greater a thing than it really is,

as he is but a man — and not any of what has been described.