After all we’re not
Savages
Bollocks to the
Rules
Kill the beast cut her throat
Spill her blood
I’ve got the
Conch
Skull like
Coconuts
We’ll have to have hands up like at
School
Sharpen a stick at both
Ends
O full of scorpions is my
Mind
Macbeth shall sleep no
More
The conch exploded into a thousand white fragments and ceased to
Exist
I’m calling an
Assembly
Unsex me
Here
All the perfumes from Arabia will not sweeten this little
Hand