Ham it up
if
i had access to the royal prince alfred i would tell my sob story with
my head in my hands being overlooked by hospital and a cut on my knee in
a position ready to defenestrate, i'd talk about words, their sense and
signification, the most recent appearance and most memorable
recurrence. i would try to describe how i felt but i know it would be a
failure because i would have taken grandmas recipe of warm milk in
cammomile tea with pseudoefrigine stirred in well well well. i would
think that if i could leave the land i could escape the whips and scorns
of time.