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| Last Identity |
| When I roar into the night, there rises a stunning fare. I quail into the rutting sight, to draw light into the air. What I am, I lay to front, I have no other hand to feed. Who will fall into the hunt? Failing the muck to breed. Is not my place to game, others will fall into the abyss. I walk the silence of same, bent to final analysis. Is this bright angel low? Words drip with swords. Mind the secrets told. Tease elemental whores. I draw to me abstinence. Bring me to hollowed edge. Count the solitary pence. I have fractured knowledge. I wish for some identity. Strike me for the willing. Call me to said entity. Hail me to the killing. Lay pewter on my head. Silk billows to my feet. Once speak of the dread. Life agonizes to meet. Laugh on the dying sun. I am of lacking deceit. What is found is undone. Sleep in the last seat. � 2000 DPMcClellan |
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| Begins Section "Abuse" |