I could remove some of your dreadful readiness; but, to do so would be to denigrate the events within your human condition: Æ says to no-one, in particular.
Speeding along another dissolution of ego through hard knocks followed by unseen but well-heard giggles in the darkness.
Æ said you wanted kindly unkindness: I whisper to no-one, in particular.
Spurning me forward, as I spurn you.
You drew the five of swords, sweet sap of sorrel.
Æ said to tell you that death is a mercy you do not deserve.
How dare you?!
I dared to accept this personally æons ago, dear. Thusly is how I dare.
Tears spring from his eyes.
I begin seeing bleeding horizons, bloody in the sinuous, poet trauma symptomatic of a new birth.
It feels like a backyard, handmade, waterslide, whereupon you sweetly play, dripping;
And given you remain unconcerned about getting grass burns on knees from all the slipping and sliding,
you may have a real devil of a divine time.
You may be rewound, house proud, town mouse.
Let your prise punish you;
you mashed my berserker button.
Teutonic fury arising between my lower limbs.
Never try to take a medal from Muttley the Magnificent.
S/he has many sharp teeth.