When your tepid garden snakes trade their panther in for a python, don't come to me as a consolation prize, Crow. Nobody puts Baby in the corner. Frith sees you. And now, finally so do I. You cannot roost in this home. All you've assembled is a murder, Crow. I will have no part in your maddening banter. Sit in your Crow Court, alone. Crow. Know that I know but still held on to my stone. I will not be sly or rave in your eye, my mouth is a mouth all alone but your ilk & your kind kill their own.
Where conspiracy theories meet feminist theories. (And sometimes there's poems).