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“I come from fear I feed you dread, I break the bread of shivers among your poor. I hear boards creaking scratched by some perverse animal. I step into the dark I sit in the midst of its dense back. Sitting there I ask to hear your cruelest of stories. I welcome terror, that somber bull, I fight for your name held in his jaws. I taste the fruit whose coarse skin is eaten by beasts who’ve never tasted honey. There’s no more bitter food than the fruit of love traversed by doubt.” — Andrea Cote
I come from fear
I feed you dread,
I break the bread of shivers
among your poor.
I hear boards creaking
scratched by some perverse animal.
I step into the dark
I sit in the midst of its dense back.
Sitting there I ask to hear
your cruelest of stories.
I welcome terror, that somber bull,
I fight for your name held in his jaws.
I taste the fruit whose coarse skin
is eaten by beasts who’ve never tasted honey.
There’s no more bitter food
than the fruit of love traversed by doubt.