This is the emotional one, as the conclusive climax denotes.
All debris is now most complete.
The fool hath said in his heart, “there is no God”.
They are corrupt, they have done abominable works, there is none that doeth good. (Psalm 4.1)
This walk feels rough.
This dance is aching me, this thought, still perplexing me.
I dissect my honesty I dissolve in tranquility.
The bandit shakes cold, a priest shows up to fake some sense, a changeless sequence of events.
So apt I can touch – to be the first, yet feel the last a victim in progress – the auction of appetites ends.
I suspend my eagerness this fruit grotesque, my fruit grotesque (..you) Desecrate my Penance Concrete/ all debris is now most complete.
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