Don’t come here with your bleating about nothing new, there is nothing new.
We are the undying, when all is dust, we will still discuss its texture, its impudence in blocking our airways, the way in which we are hypocrites for excluding and not permitting its choking behaviour, bigots as we are.
We who have discussed hats, cats, dogs, shrubbery, robbery, and all things gun related are tired, and rely on fresh blood to come and stir us from our ennui, where we lurch from the shadows to sing our tired madrigals and bow to imagined applause, our memories inventing garlands never given, lovers never courted.
Don’t expect us to chew your food for you, our mouths are dry.