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Our Contempt Unmasked


Our breath is atrocious, crowding the air, our teeth, fanged relics slanted, bent of intolerance and proud minds fetching the face of wretchedness with leaching maws of foaming hatred. We must find our contempt unmasked, find our repugnant and false-hearted wars most contemptible as we use our depraved dribble to spackle the holes we’ve put in love.

Tell me, oh mighty war, that they did not suffer? Tell me, oh potent combat, that they didn't needlessly die for our mantle and plot? Oh reckless courage, collateral death, are we set to fail love?

Humankind's blind grasp of truth is no more than a churning obituary held up to fading mirror...


© 2012 by mark richard prime

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