i may be shrouded in this grin i've got, but i've got a bellyfull of hate like an iron furnace has coals. i mean, i display all the medals i've been awarded by team evil on my chest like a war hero, don't i? i've got my (shriveled, black) heart on my sleave, havn't i? this hate is most of what keeps me going. i'm dead inside except for hate (& a niggling mote of love). i'm a revenant possessed by myself, but the dark palace of my desires. i'll see the world returned to the abyss, for now it's naught by shadows held together by cobwebs. i will feast on the heart of the dweller of the threshold.