...And again the repulsive serpent came henceforth, but to only swim in a tongue of yours and of the nether: a “celestial” disgust. Yielding great depth in feverish foam, his muddy mutter took a harsh control of I, the flesh: the numbers of six and fifty; but remember you reader, that the serpent was only so—of the lesser gem. The sickness became nonsense and my body too surreal. Even now as I write such diction, my fingers bleed from lesions of the serpent’s strike and crowd my hand of wretchedness—calamity swollen in disguise. Covet thee! and treat me as an equal serpent, for you are death itself.
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