i am dantor dissatisfied.

dolorosa encased in tempered glass;
heart pierced and bleeding
despite her riches.

i hear gold is a wonderful conductor,
but i am not interested in intermediaries.

neither blood nor passion
run through my precious metals;
they can only be traded for more paper
to trade again...

je rouge,
focused rage,
bloodied femininity.

rum and perfume
my sword and shield;
i'll gladly run you through
laughing all the way.

who is brave enough
to construct my altar?

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