Growl when you’re mad, sister.

Watch them mourn

your lost manners.

Hear them cry out

to the god of lost cause.

What do they know

of our secret wolf selves?


Long with me to nourish

this secret, to force pulsing prey

down our hungry throats.


Stalk, in silence, their rigid roles.

Devour first those blood-rich organs,


and duty.


Gift them with steaming feces

laced with silver ribbons.

The last time you will give a shit.


Then, we will run together

triumphant in predation

howling with honesty

baring fangs when we must.

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