>>937374737
Eustace screamed, “It’s all one guy!
Each thread, each log, the same damned sty!”
His eyes were red, his fists were tight,
He hadn’t slept a wink all night.
“They mock me with their steaming prose!
Their creamy craft! Their Taco blows!”
But deep inside, beneath the hate,
His stomach growled, he’d taken bait.
He cursed the logs, the art, the flair...
Yet dreamed of tasting Andy’s fare.
For fury hides what hunger knows:
We want the things we won’t disclose.