Show Him Every Dawn & Read To

I Sit In The Top Of The Wood, My Eyes Closed. Inaction, No Falsifying Dream Between My Hooked Head And Hooked Feet: Or In Sleep Rehearse Perfect Kills And Eat.

Where Are The Gods The Gods Hate Us The Gods Have Run Away The Gods Have Hidden In Holes The Gods Are Dead Of The Plague They Rot And Stink Too There Never Were Any Gods There’s Only Death

So The Self Under The Eye Lies, Attendant And Withdrawn.

You Are Who You Choose To Be.

I Shall Also Take You Forth And Carve Our Names Together In A Yew Tree, Haloed With Stars.