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The Animal

Take this animal that I willingly am
fragmented dust
held together by a turmoil of nerve endings
devout in their profanity

Somewhere (this animal sensually thinks)
even on these streets
coke-edged and naked with danger
a hole in reality awaits my discovery of her

a crevice as yet unexplored
within whose dire beauty
the answer to all things terribly lies

a sphinx
riddled with sacrilege
who can do no less than devour my soul

The miracle of it all
how mere dust can feel so desperate.

EDDIE WOODS

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