What do the heavens love more, truth, or art, worms and zombie brains, or a pretty flower, a wonderful reflection, meat spread out on the table and crawling worms, or maybe you see your mother, in the eyes of your lover, it brings you comfort, some layer of separation, so that it’s not gross to look at, the cold hard ground, the echo of everything, you’re fucking your daughter, but to you it could be nothing, close the mind, lock the door, you’re letting the stank out, that food is for your father, I guess the question is, does the food that you eat, the fruit that enters your mouth, does it pass the humanity test, or is it forbidden, work and effort, complain enough and the heavens will give you anything, simply pay the price right, burn in the fire, but how is the foundation, how much can you build on top of it, the dragon road, it’s a long journey, where did you make your nest, in the village, by the river, so much extends before you, did you even try, or at the starting line, did you settle there, the heavens laughing, it’s the same to your father, yearn for more, and you can have it, on the plains of Whiterun, in the valley of death, or upon a tower, born on a mountain, he doesn’t care, we’re all beneath him, this dude fucking his daughter, even demons get fed…

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