Listen up, you squids -- you ink jets -- hiding in your clouds of words, confabulating camouflage to veil the nature of your souls, dissembling so ingeniously but trapped within your murky shoals - it's time to give your mouths a rest and savor silence as of old. Before your species learned to rap or grasp the meaning of a word, when truth had not been banished yet, and "lie" was just a sound unheard for fifteen thousand million years, the ink of language marked your blood with curse and glory of a kind no animal of earth had known -- a heady mix of lees and wine, the stuff of poetry and lies. That vintage, grown as old as bones of mastodons and glyptodonts, as cloying as an oenomel, is all that spares you for the nonce: I pray that Yahweh takes you all, we've had our fill of you in Hell.Birth sign: Libra
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