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July 02, 2005
I am merely a mouth-- swallowing scraps falling down from the table, tasting discontentment of every kind. The master of the house knows my abject hunger, so he strapped me in a chain long enough to reach his side. He sits at the head, drinking sadness and picking on his food, salted with the memories of sons who are not here. We share a dismal comfort knowing that we need each other-- my constant presence, his power over the length of my shackles. The mistress looks at us from the other side with a half-smile of aversion. Revelling on the blandness for what I am, for what he has become. I count the spaces in between the stone floor until the dinner bell. And I cannot feel the dampness anymore like I used to. That is why when he died, I gnawed on my chain until my mouth bled. blue rogue |