walking menagerie of values
with fortitude waning
but press on into the animal light
crass puritanical madman
pour over pour out history’s pages
learned fortune tellers smelling copper throwing
bloody stones from the soul crumpled papers
lies like leaves that fall from your autumn minds
the wind carries far and finite
as the idiot said
there will be time
chained to and fond of fences
trained dogs lapping up mother’s milk
dressed in silk a pig is still drawn to filth
and vomits in the slop its cohorts devour
wet crunching hour
by wretched fearful iron hour rust
watching us wasting away to handfuls of dust
but needs must
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