Monday, April 11, 2011

the Owlman of Mawnan Head

let me not have lived in vain—Tycho Brahe

Alle of this day has been of Flowers but I elect Murder as a better pastime have you forgotten us Old Murder Old Death there on the rooking Sea? well we will see. I perch here on the chimney not for my Health or Ardour but for these opportunities to swoop upon the necks of those I Hate. would you not, if you were here, peck me slightly then urge me on? without your support, Wild Bird, I cannot go on with this tearing and eating. from the Grave my Grandmother implores me to stop, and if only. but there you are, your feathered ass, your beak in my Abdomen. what could be better? I am your Zombie your Assassin for one more only, then we must be married and this will cease. direct me with care little Wild Moon for I will eat your Father for the slightest error. first kisse me and run those rose pips again into my mouth like Dead Souls to the Inferno. another yet cometh up the path I am loosing my claws and jumping again into the river of night air...


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