From FLOWER OF THE GODS

Im to keep what you discarded good in faith good in faith the lowest of the low before the charmer of the charmed the ressurector of the dead and as I hold it in my hand I tremble I am lost I am terribly lost more dangerous than the hungry wolf in Little Red Riding Hood way more dangerous is this mission beginnings are confused for ends ends as thesis thesis as antithesis how can there be synthesis with a pseudo antithesis poor bastards dont understand hopes and dreams are merely the whims of a mind that thinks of nothing thinks my dreams were dreamt with a glassy eye ones of the giant Excalibur when I was young young enough to hide pieces of string under garden stones steal raw pickles set out to dry in the sun poke my index finger in the dirt and pull it out with grime and a poor earthworm and then I read the Idylls they spoke of a land so green and wide with knights in arms and lances and swords and enchanted forests and then there was Arthur himself the killer of the killers the king of the kings he would hold the Excalibur high the shining blade would whisper ballads odes and tales whisper of Idylls and kids with grimy fingers who stole pickles would listen to them with glassy eyes from Walter Scott subverted the ruthlessness and might of Arthur to feed his effiminate audience with tales of love valor and ideals his books to lure unsuspecting little Old-English girls to his bed God Save The Queen ere she falls in the trap and yes I wanted to be Arthur rescue damsels in distress but the only damsel who would talk to me in fifth grade was Leslie with braces she kissed me under the corner desk in the lunch room when we were playing hide and seek and she was happy I was happy too we crawled from under that desk I was proud proud proud as King Arthur himself my quest for the Excalibur started out with a nice kiss and the hope grew like a red red rose in spring the petals blossomed and spread out in the misty mornings out I went into the world with blooming hopes with hope and pride my pockets were full but when now my dear stranger who I know so well I hold what you discard in this Valley of Shame my hand quivers I am afraid the pride and hope like best friends quarreled and parted I am stranded all alone the Valley Of Shame shows no mercy best friends are not friends enough to venture for you into lands of no mercy I have walked long and I am tired to Heaven did Arthur reach after he died I long but for Purgatory How long till I reach it how long till the iron cages of Purgatory rescue me from this Valley of shame I am a Pilgrim and I am very tired I literally wish I were tired to death and here in my journey with your discarded treasure I need some rest let me rest a while take a drink from the Cup of Hecate and wait for waiting is the only craft I still can execute.