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Suffer the whim to survive and to feel;
I’ve been alone, I was born (it’s incurable).
‘Til the end we are…
animal.
Salival
benediction
tastes the same,
liable
to desperation.
(Suffer the whim to survive and to feel)
This chemical slope is surreal,
it’s the way we turn in circles
of delight and fear.
I’ve been alone…
I’ve been alone, I was born

(it’s incurable).

How can it weigh so
heavily on our minds
to feel someone’s
flesh
and
bone
pressed against our own?
‘Til the end we are…

animal.
Salival
fascination
taints and shames.

Creatures, learnt to crawl,
we are enslaved by what we are.
Warm-blooded throes,
we are in chains
above, below.

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