Here, in the Obsession

Forgotten Woods

The assumption that I gave birth to flies is true. A dog crucified. The fluttering ascends. Shedding skin to build another. Let them inherit the horror. And the shame from which it's made. I wish I was as pale as you. Reflecting superman while the host snickers. We syndicate the poignant arts of mastering the unknown. Here, in the obsession.

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