I've pierced the heart a thousand times
as blood pumps back through a
orgasmic condemnation.
The knights come in the morning, noon, night, and thereafter
with eyes of mourning tears of sorrow
garrotes the jester's laughter
Kings and queens with puppeteers
dance on marionette strings
with bees buzzing around his head
the jester dances through the land of the dead
He hungers for the brains of kings and ever so insatiably
he feasts and feasts and picks his teeth
with the swords of knights and dreams of queens
Once again the night returns
as it always seems to
and the kings are back from their freshest kill
with the kingdom still they sleep
Suddenly the rook appears
with the insanity of children's fables
he cracks his knuckles and shuffles his feet
and swipes the pieces off the table
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