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Poetry: Satan

by H Brown

"Yours Truly, "


I scythe the swash

when my 'had' ha-hinks

our maker lets me turn you right into a child

to punish you

PUNISH YOU


if you had any guts

you'd fuel my high-jinx

but each time you crawl right back like

the sheep you are

SHEEP YOU ARE


your souls leak love

but they pop like grapes

at the feasts of Bacchus I ensnared them all

just like slaves

JUST LIKE SLAVES


you are all voyeurs

and I taught you well

in comfort you secrete while being digitized

through your brain

THROUGH YOUR BRAIN


all of my secrets

are in the CODEX GIGAS

copies now available within any 'noble-borders'

read my book

READ MY BOOK





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