2002-09-25

Somewhere between the stinking rot of the city
And the persistant hammering of Time
The King of Follicles sleeps
The million-year fall from Beauty has worn him out
Fighting a thousand invisible ostracisms
He was stabbed one too many times by thier sharp looks
And is tired from the blood loss
Never one to dance
On the head of a pin
He often climbs the Arrow
To reach the Crown
But slips and falls
Being trampled by Volition soldiers
But for some reason refuses to die
He just slips away quietly now and then
To take a rest
Only to begin the next round
Of wars with himself

~Matt Magus

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