I looked for a pattern and there was none.
I lined them up beside each other to see what it was I had thought was so right and well about each one
(of course nothing was right, nothing was well).
I carried on then, and the worst part is I often fear I might do just that any old time I get the chance to even now. In complete honesty and soothe: there is a ferocious and rabid part of me (the dead me) that likes to bare it's fangs whenever a pretty face strolls by.
This part says "Take! Take! Take! Don't think (think, think)!" and I, coward, often kneel to him, even if only in the ether of my mind.
"A new command I give you: do not even hate your brothers, for then you have already committed murder in your heart".
Foul beast: simple, canid, lupine, weekend warrior, club crawler, audacious, Jekyll; wound seeker, scoundrel, unwelcome guest (and OH I could go on!) Only a great fool would ever place his heart where you could snap at it. Let the full weight of damnation rest soundly about your neck like a blood-soaked sash, so very dissimilar from the grace resting about my own. Damn you and adieu: glory, allelujah and maranatha.
Damn you and adieu! Spin forever down and don't return! The dead me remains in his grave.
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