Dicta Novissima

 

The unbecoming vastitude of debauched concerns, have immortalized, the rudimentary decadence, of desire in the most anatomical sensibility of possession and murder. It is not that I have, in the material condition repudiated, the idea that the intelligence of mental pathos, and the source of its fulfilment, exist within the concave of the terrestrial, and that I, in my deeds can only be fathomed, as a murderer or a sick man. I cannot solicit, the embassy of a credible excuse, to any portion of this ordeal, and address myself, or my actions in the honor of humanity. The quivering temperament of our reality, is not always within the corporeal locus of our jurisdiction, and even in the abundance of wit and contemplation, I cannot say, that the victim's death, was ever a lucid sentiment. I cannot gird, any expression to suffice, the insufferable nature, of my guilt, for many things have been in vain. In the fictional satire of immeasurable things, the effect of humor is to be expected in consequence, but I pardon the listener, to believe for the sake of an impending posterity, that I had the ethereal visits of Demons upon that night, and they exist to conquer and destroy. They showed me visions of ancient catacombs, and those of hell, and promised that death, would fall upon me, and my family, if I did not resign to the acquiescent gestures of passive initiative. I have raped, and murdered a little child, and the voices, they have summoned me to this purpose, and presently I am due of this capital punishment. They will come for your sons, and they will bury your daughters! I have given warning, and my words, must remain an article of recourse, and undefiled testimony. God bless us all.