How I’d Love To Displease My King.
And Be Subjected
To New And Creative Punishments.
Like Being Loaded
Into The Sling
Of A Trebuchet.
And Launched,
Arcing,
At The Wall Of The Enemy Fortress.
To Shatter,
Wetly.
And Bathe Protestants In My Steaming Gore.
God.
I Miss You,
Walled Cities.
Dartboards
That You Were.















