YOU CANNOT HAVE
THE CLEAVER, MAY
THE CLEAVER, MAY
NOT TAKE THE TABLE
...and you are not the butcher's son. Now get that straight.
I do not care how many legs of lamb are holding up
the table, (you facetious idiot), nor do I care, or would
I if they were. It's always the same with you : a non-conditional
response to things that really aren't, as if you're willing to
live your entire life in a nether world of things that cannot be.
That might work in the forest, where in darkness, it is said,
the wolfs and leopards still can see. But not here in this
world of bleak things, this mantelpiece of blackness,
this kingdom of the long-lost and utterly dead.
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