MARTYRDOM MAKES THE
HEART GROW FONDER
And anyway, I'd have nothing else to do. Sling me
with your arrows then, send the lions my way. I
feel like I'm reading Shakespeare in a paper bag -
all muffled echoes and a crinkled noise subsiding.
There's nothing left in play.
-
One, two, three, the stories go. Midsummer
night's dream and a tempest in a fury. Everything
reeling, upsetting itself, coming apart at the seams.
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