# An Interlude 2

*An elf with a mad dog*

By [Stories from the Void](https://paragraph.com/@storiesfromthevoid) · 2023-02-22

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I’m a gift goat,

A treasure chest in a castle,

Surrounded by a moat,

Don’t gloat, I’m the real thing,

This is not a reflection, of 22 Carat Bling,

It’s the real sting,

Thick thick bling, hanging off my chest,

Save the rest for later,

I’m the true creator,

A stile or a crater,

I’m the front man,

From the gold chest.

In my bullet proof vest.

See my drawing,

A genius thawing,

Next thing I’ll be boring underground,

You’ll still be lost, in the Lost n Found.

Your negative, it’s a negative sound,

But I’m Heaven Bound.

_But don’t you get the story,_

_I’m all dirty and I’m all gory,_

_Invest in me, I will free you,_

_I will lead you,_

_To the Holy Grail._

_Is it me or you that is stale?_

_Mate._

_Cos I’m not so frail._

_That was a lie. Do you get me._

_Call me snake oil man, zero dot two,_

_I just see your skinny bones._

_Save that heart, Team Zombie,_

_You’re gonna need it,_

_If you won’t heed the truth,_

_I’ll tell you straight._

_I’m real uncouth._

_I’ve got no red heart._

_All I am is art._

_A Hamas, or A Hamza-Tart._

_I’ll write a story around your head,_

_I’ll wrap it around your gold plated bed stead,_

_My skull will never get bled,_

_Do you get me?_

_I’m a hobo, riding on your train,_

_Like on a gravy train, do you get me,_

_Mr Vee, I got real history._

_I’m a parasite, on your side,_

_Eating into your soul man,_

_Even in my rundown van._

_I understand Intellectual Property,_

_In a way that might be beyond you,_

_Like I see a hot tittie,_

_And you see IP, do you get me._

_Innit Bruv._

_You cannot own a tittie._

_And certainly not in Romania,_

_Because it’s illegal Bruv._

_I don’t think you’re such a legal eagle._

_Like maybe a run over Beagle,_

_or a badger or a beaver,_

_All squashed on the road,_

_or bashed with an iron lever._

_Cos words aren’t the same as pictures,_

_Unless you’re like Jesus,_

_Visions in the Scriptures,_

_Do you get me._

_I can write a story around you,_

_And you can’t do nothing._

_Like you have the turkey,_

_But I’ve got the stuffing._

_Like I can’t defame your image,_

_But like was that a bite from a midge,_

_Or was that Mer Kin with the murder,_

_Was that really Bobby Shmurda,_

_Or was that just a hobo,_

_Swaggering on a girder,_

_Swaying on a train track,_

_Like a too old tightrope walker,_

_He’s just a talker,_

_Not even a stalker,_

_Needs something sturdier,_

_He’s down in the back grime,_

_Like Stan Slime._

_Do you get me._

_Like they're just words,_

_Spinning in the Aether,_

_Like a drunk man dancing with Aoife,_

_Or a dead man,_

_Too much grief,_

_Didn’t want to leave her._

_See a zealous zealot wants it all,_

_Like a Hassidic Hebrew in Israel,_

_There is no compromise._

_A zealous zombie is the undead,_

_All that gore and gunk,_

_It’s like funk town, like a gore gown,_

_Like a Gorgon,_

_As big as a Morgan Stanley,_

_A Gorgon with a Stanley knife._

_Buttering with noughts and ones,_

_Like fresh cream on cream buns._

_A dead zombie waiting to be rivitalised,_

_With Marmite, and the Vital Eyes,_

_Of Dark Eyes Jessica._

_With her smooth Latin thighs._

_Do you get me._

_Or am I talking Double Dutch?_

_Or the Double Irish Dutch Sandwich?_

_Fuck that witch._

_I’m a midge with a vengeance._

_An elf with a mad dog._

_Do you get me._

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*Originally published on [Stories from the Void](https://paragraph.com/@storiesfromthevoid/an-interlude-2)*