25 October 2013
III
My prose was up on the mountain… getting a taste for gulls and sacred songs…
eating bitter herbs from barbaric lands. Then it was tempted by angels, seduced
by harlots. My prose flinched… went for cloister and hermitage. When it broke
out, it took a journey through the slums, asylums and jungles. It started living
with the undereartheners, advanced in the abhorrent, the occult, the absurd.
She became a beast. An enemy, operating under many aliases. She murdered her
uncle and poisoned the dog… wiped out entire villages. There was no precedence
for acts so beastly and depraved… but all executed so delicately and sublime.
My suave brute, my vampire queen. We remember when she was young and awed by
splendor, with hips like herring boats and teeth like lionesses. I had leaded a
white goat to the altar for her in those days…
That was before you were sick and tarred with shame. Now we are much closer.
That’s why I keep you hidden and chained.
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