The bird that spoke the apple’s truth
feared no mortal.
Sit muttering your hardest truths,
but only to yourself.
what have you deigned today to be
but another waste.
stew yourself with the bones of tomorrow again-
strike from them the last vestiges of
He had sat with broken madness in hand for long enough.
The sphinx was towering above him only in his head.
Maybe it was time for his own riddles
and magic tricks
The fingers don’t forget.
Those old ways set themselves so far into you,
you don’t dare deny them.
with gunpowder pops