i am sharpening my fish hooks; polishing my boots
the fires of the war machine are being stoked, uruk-hai are growing in the concrete embryo of the city
waiting for tarmac vagina to split and tear, spewing molten hate into my city, OUR city
red-hot glowing shards of glass; hot on my tongue and in my lungs. feel it bubble and boil, blood giggling with anticipation
i have been given purpose
by the vixen, a goddess scorned
i will be the instrument of her divine wrath
scalpel insurgency at ninety miles an hour
I am precisely the kind of bastard you don't want directed agaisnt you
to be explicitly honest; I'm not tremendously fussed either way
but she asked me
so i will kill for her.
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