It is all one sustained, resonant scream masked in gestures of condemning kindness.
The seeds he has nurtured are boastful adulterers, waterless gullies which cackle during night's inhalation
The centered brahman with a heart of madness, his ecstasy earned, but undelivered,
lingering in the heavy, hypnotic moonlight, a bewildered fragment of substance,
a frail, diseased swan deprived of grace, who saunters through traumatized flowers,
whose pedals endure the drizzling of napalm and the smoke which billows from the furnace of futility.
A cloth clutched across his face, repulsed by obscene horrors dressed in blandness and neutrality,
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