it was wasnt it

                          better when books begged

better than when they demanded

like unsatisfied junkies

junkies whose violence trembled unsure

beneath their tight skin an features

unsure if theyd win

win their next fix

in next moment

the next breath

haunted

senseless

those who were only skin an bones an raw itching nerves

                                                                                               I made examples of them

smashed their tinderskulls against handmade stone walls

held them by their thin ulcerated ankles

 

swang them like feeble ragdolls

unable to escape or slip my grasp

hopeless

hopeless

      in their desperate physics as I swung them like bats an axes

I beat them until they were unrecognisable

weapons who failed to breach the wall

an dropped them left them like pulled weeds at its heels

Yes  it was better when the books begged

                                                                      I was more sympathetic  understanding

compliant

1601,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  6  1. 16 

 2135,  Day-between-Two Ts,  6  1. 16