Christ, people
you're all an
utter ****** embarrassment.
you showed great promise,
in those early days,
crackign skulls with stone clubs,
howling at morning suns,
filthy and *******.

but you've only gone and lost the bleeding basics, haven't you?
you don't **** on your territory- what territory?
some big old boy called 'government' has been ******* all over you,
and you applaud like a foolish clown.

you clip your nails with metal, out of necessity,
because they're not being ground on rock
in the fling and throes of the hunt.

you've become terrified of dirt, and the possibilities of the body,
you can't even stomache your meat raw. pathetic.
meek and obsolete, wandering lost and lonely.
you've no pack instinct, and pander on and on and ******* ON

about 'love.' what a villaniously clean word,
not even a scratch of dirt, no delving in warm pink orifices,
filthy and *******

you may be top dog, but you've lost the dog, and are falling from the top.

She told him that her world was round
And it in turn
Went round because of him
This man
Her sun
Her moon
Her stars
The subtle tilt along her axis
The gentle push behind her endless spin
And being the man he was
He listened only with his heart
And so took her for her words
But as in many things
More so in words brought on by love
What is said
Is seldom ever really what is heard
So on he went
With her
Around her round world  
All doubts subdued by thoughts of what was said
Until the day he found that sometimes worlds
Can be as flat as they are round
And somehow the words used by another
Had slowly pushed him
To the edge