sweet husband of mine
Thane of Cawdor
you will not see the truth
you will see horror in the round
in the eyes of that man who was and is no more
if there be no blood then there be no history
and you shall be the assassin of his days all at my command
and yet no rich red wine to toast the empty skull
set fragile on the table of vice upon which we all feed
to remind us of the emptiness of this life
Flynnpoetry 