I am now, and will
always be, a giant
of the eye and a
dwarf to touch. Push,
press, break and cry-
appeal to the winds
if they will listen-
bear witness against
me. The winter of the
heart opens up before
you. You are the prince
of the peckish, the
king in rags, high priest
among the hay bales.
And ink shall be thy blood.
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