All this is what we need to see, to feed ourselves with the hollow shells of life.
         Generally speaking, of course

I wouldn’t dream of telling you anything specific.
(Specifics are for the forlorn and battered).

Nevertheless…

What is this piss poor poetic pornshop I creep towards? We need to fuck words…
WAIT!
Provoking sadness is not my prerogative,
but a desire I cannot stifle with crippling cracks of a wordless whip

…any day ,all day…

Still,
(and that’s a truth as true as anything I’ve lied about)
one day we will be more than sheep, one day we simply must be more than simple sheep,
because if we are less; we are surrendered to the deadly wickedness of this world.
And let me tell you; there is deadly wickedness abound in this world.
                                        See for yourself!
So, if this means we have to wolf ourselves into hairy and teethy licks of the pen,
so be it.

Well,
at least
for me.

Wolves travel in packs for a reason. It gives them a false idea of safety;
however misguided that may be.
Wolves have an inborn and primal sense for survival. Always fighting and biting their
way through the wilderness; in packs. But this world is wilderness.

Let me repeat this...

This world is wilderness
This world is wilderness
This world is wilderness
And what are we? Merely wolves dressed in sheep clothes gnawing on meaningless chunks of this wilderness.

Clear?