CHOIRS OF WORMLETS
I have chastised all to the fore
and beaten them down and made
chase of shadow and rivulet and
runner and run. It is nothing very
populous, this popular delusion.
I will harbor your heart in my
hands, and hold all of your
hesitant hopes within these
moments of my making -
all of your dreams in my
drama. My blood shall
pulse your heart, and I
will spill new seed on
your lily-white belly.
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