Petits XI

gregarious euphoria of

the wayward flock

continue to yellow the same trodden circles

mesmerized by a sloppily disguised shepherd

and his glittering staff

***

a blooded cave

a pink-carven shell

a craving to fill its visceral caverns with life

***

the body starts with an untugged jerk

an untied movement for once

a shock of pain radiates throughout the nerves

the pain of knowing all too well

what it is to know too much

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