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The Narcoleptic Dragon
Every time you hear the story of the brave knight and the cave,
That he searched for the dragon and the lady he must save,
Said knight was tested by the dragon's ire and his fire,
But by the time he speaks of swordplay sigh and brand him as a liar,
For it is known to all folk with a brain, and who are sane,
That dragons tend, without aim, to fall as if were slain,
For they have all been cursed with narcolepsy can't you see,
Thus now it falls to me to tell you how this came to be!
One thing that earns a dragon fame is how they are so vain,
They value ugly without shame it's more than just a game,
You can surely think how generations saw them slowly change,
And the younger breeds replaced the aged with features more deranged,
With plates that squeeze the skin to folds that flap when in the breeze,
And nostrils narrowed to a crease, no wonder dragons wheeze,
And twisted necks, and armored sheets, this list goes to my feet,
Just imagine, if it's not a leap, when dragons try to sleep!
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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