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(Part ten of a ten-poem story-arc. From the "Carnal Forgeries" series.)

(Mammals, Pt. 2)

I'm alone again, but then, you know.
And in the end, I've learned
That nothing is worth the plunge.
Madness is a dead ringer for love,
The laughing tsar, a moaning pharoah,
The second death that's burned
Since Eve offered Adam lunch,
And all we are ever dreaming of.

The damage that is due--the damage done,
And the scars across my back,
The eyes that seek to spite me...
All the product of another will,
Another mind and its dominion.
Yet I longed for its attack,
The scapegoat that it lends me.
It's the sweetest drug, the bitter pill.

We are the children of God, some say.
Only a Father would know.
We're given to what heaven sent,
And the pain of feeling alone.
We're only mammals, anyway...
Controlled by the voice we know:
Nature's call, scent of decent,
The midnight cry, the pharoah moan.



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  • From Hell, Arrakis, United States
  • "If words could kill a man, I'd bury you."
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