A Celtic Phoenix: What Really Really happened to Jimmy “Sweet Rolls” Sullivan

"Love left me like a coal upon the floor, Like a half - burned sod!"
Douglas Hyde

Shitdamn, it’s hot in here—slow cooking in this tight-assed whiskey barrel, thick boggy air like where my ancient ancestors were buried, where they remain perfectly preserved in their bronze-peat graveyard. There is CADEYRN’s severed head, turned to me, smiling, his half-moon eyes and that toothless gummy grin, like dirty Al Capone preparing to burn his dirty secrets.

Jesus, it’s hot, Jesus—

you poor bearded fuck, you fell in love with the world- God’s enemy, didn't you? I know just how you feel. Whiskey remnants buzz from these boards, crackle in this heat, dizzy as Hell, I can’t rest my head against these smoldering boards.

Capone, you sonofabitch, you’re probably fanning yourself in that cooled movie theater where you found Mae and I making sloe love in the projection booth while La Boheme flitted to a popcorned crowd below.

Here is my dirty secret: I loved her more than you possibly could have.

But as your goons toss this barrel into the furnace, know this: These shackles blistered into my wrists and ankles—I am dripping out of them, dripping into ashes. There sluices one eyebrow, and then the next—

My nose caves into the tongue your wife adored, she moaned like a pentacostal.
There goes my neck… my spine. I surrender my bowels, my balls, and everything down to my toenails until I am this pile of smoldering ashes—

Now I am coming for you.