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Solitude is not given
It is Earned
In this Conspiracy
Of Destiny
Empty Vessels
Of Spermless Love
Made of Mud and Mist
I was Possessed
We Develop, We Delight, We Define and We Decay
From within
A sacred Power
Acting upon my Shame
In Pursuit of the Impossible Nothingness
I found myself
In Sacrilege
Shall we die a Master-Slave
For this Dog Day Age?
Develop and Delight and Decay
Douglas P.
DEATH IN JUNE