On the banks of the Mississippi River where the clouds touch the ground you will find me spun between the night and day. I hunt for for the one who will feed me my weakness. A man who will not care about social norms but a man concerned only with the sins of the flesh. Entangled and lost to the fog, only we can find our salvation. With each inhale the weakness grows and with each exhale the the mind grows weaker, the heart abandons fear, and the soul takes flight. Day turns to night and yet we continue without care for the passing of time. Only when the hunger is vanquished and the flesh consumed will we find peace.