Give me that rope, I’m Making a whip; there’s work to Be done. My Dad’s house. Wake the young lion. Tell him to get to
I considered it the utmost privilege to spend patients’ last moments on Earth with them. Now that I am in Radiology, I don’t have these
Targeted by threeFarmers, I fled to kingdomSubterranean. By tunnel I tookTheir sustenance to feed myKith and kin, the ones For whom I cared. Theywatched my
Certain am I you Will be happier without Me dragging you down.
When was it that IWas cracked? Unsimple Simon.The time when I chased Spectral ZazumeeThrough plate glass window, bloodyBrow, needed stitching? Or when I refusedTo go
These words become myAlchemical masterwork,In which various Characters voice myPugnanimous sentimentsAnd brawl on the floor. Thus do I transmuteVitriol, uncouth, intoSublimest vapors.