Even though the purity of your love is affirmed by the
unanimous quiver of every feather in the celestial host,
I am not going back to the axe of your love, O triumph-
ant husbandman and lasso king of the gateless horses,
I am not going back to you, even though I squirm in
your arms and surrender to your will the total essence
of my dusty shell here in this captured sweat-hall, I am
never coming back, I swear by the rent curtain of my
virginity and the blood-thick silence between the
bridgeless worlds, that I will lie to you forever, and I
will be never again, the cup of your need.
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