The fellow from the Church came yesterday and took Sufjan away. Poor chap wasn't really in a position to resist, what with being drugged halfway to hell and only have one hand. I gave his collector enough antibiotics and painkillers to keep him going for a few weeks but if he doesn't renew the prescription, Sufjan's going to have a rough time of it.
I've burned down the little shack where Sufjan and I spent this last week and a bit. No evidence, no proof. Just ashes, as it should be. Everywhere I go, I intend on leaving ashes, where I've set hopes, dreams, minds and bodies on fire.
It's been a pleasure speaking to you all. I don't know if this blog is ever going to be updated again. I don't really care. If it is, I can assure you that the only person writing here will be the twisted, broken husk of what was once Sufjan McBride. If what I'm saying is getting you hot-headed, then good. That's exactly what I want. If it's not, that's fine too. It will give me the motivation I need to work harder.
So long, friends. I've got a world to burn.