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its been to long since the scratch was itched
if we feed the hunger
let its core of wild lust run rampent
in the streets of our hearts
feed and satisfy
the time is alone and rellentless
so if the desires run amidst the feeding
the spirit itself is prey to the carnage
we devour our own souls
with the lust of things
so timeless
so endless
and repetative
or reproductive.
