I bare my brutish aim:
to disguise my animalism in symbols and obscurity.
A con game I'm winning, don't forget.
But what about you? And you?
I bare my base beliefs: negate whatever I have heard or said,
it doesn't matter what.
But what about you? And you?
I'm conducting this wild pantomime, aloof, immune, and sour.
A raven hobbles past with a broken wing.
I follow it into abstraction.
But you dance like a dizzy crying child.
And you sing like you think that you belong.
And you are plummeting past hope.
And you are making a tremendous fool of yourself again.
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