This is why. (Really.)

For my brothers uttering contemptuous oaths to their stagnant interrogators, to resist a pen for their  ploughshares, waiting one more day after one more day after one more day that the capwick would close upon our oppressors flame, snuffing out their infants and leaving their dogs to dine in the market . Those who  would not lay down at St. Andrew's Keep will watch their widows   lay amongst the worms and trophies of their bastard sons weeping ochre iron within their sullied loins.

That after the day is ours, the leather will snap like switches of willow; scars creeping open like glistening ladybugs  and the long wail of pleads for yield will crest as a new moon's Waltz.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

32 comments about this exercise Feed