thee who shan't submit shall feed on blood and skin

Here I sit, with you on the other side of the window, out on the street, out window shopping, looking in at the dough kneaders and the mannequins in turbans and the lip reading teachers like myself. I知 saying something to you, only you don稚 know what it is, because you haven稚 taken my class yet. See my lips move? Mysteriously? Perhaps passionately? Now I am furrowing my brow. Now I am smiling. Why would I be smiling? Now am I screaming? Now am I yawning? Now am I reciting the Gettysburg address? Maybe I知 muttering an ancient curse now, that the cracks in the sidewalk will widen and eat your ankles. Maybe I知 reciting an ancient Hungarian recipe for an aphrodisiac split-pea soup. Maybe I知 detailing the outcomes of future Kentucky Derbies. You値l never know. I could be talking backwards. I could be talking forwards. I could be telling you what everybody else is telling you: that your life has gone to Hell. But maybe I知 also telling you just what the Hell is wrong with your life and just how the Hell to fix it. Maybe I知 saying 斗ook into my eyes. Don稚 look into my eyes. Look into my lips. Five bucks. Five bucks. Five bucks.

[Forever after at

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