• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 09
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Metaphors, metaphors, metaphors,
that’s all you ever deal in.

You look at the board, you see us
as a carefully delineated series of

alliances, possibilities, probabilities,
waiting to be sifted, shifted, abjured.

All I see is me beating you again,
and you not ever trying again,

which is trying for me, again. Enough
of your King’s Indian defence and timid

obligations. The sky is here asking us
to embrace it, and I damn well can’t

see why you can’t grab me too, instead of
waiting for your impassive ghosts to save you.