The Sanctum

Welcome, traveller. This be the realm of Jay Niner, where everything be possible, and nothing ever happens. If, perchance, thou wisheth to tarry, then find thou a page from the Grimoire and read. For we are here in eternity, and we are in medias res.


Memoirs of a boring class.

Till kingdom come we await our doom;
Sitting stony-faced in a crowded room.
When will it enter, on wings night-black?
To torture in ecstasy on the chain and rack?

Yes, 'tis a sorry sad tale, a state.

For those of us awaiting this fate.
And lo, it cometh, of eyes dark and visage grim
To skewer our sanity and health on its whim.
The only greeting arises from boredom,
An aide, for it would not quickly butcher and hoard 'em.

Yes, we were in trouble ungainly-
And worse news to come, our shift doubled cleanly.
So we tightened our belts, teeth grounded.
Alarms of sleep loudly sounded-
Into Morpheus's waiting embrace we flew,
like into sunlight does evaporate dew.

To avoid that one being to deny us beer-
Strict, and surreptitious, the all-seeing teacher!

(Pic from

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