“Anthem for postprandial. The hands That have drawn The feast Now draw thin Red blood In separate sign And riddle Out a wither In a last few grains Of whimpered self To deny Our dwarfing”
“Anthem for postprandial. The hands That have drawn The feast Now draw thin Red blood In separate sign And riddle Out a wither In a last few grains Of whimpered self To deny Our dwarfing”