I’m a beast—a body with no brain, a slave to my passions- a victim of infantile desire.

Some threaten me, saying won’t feed into my passions; thus, I will grow.

But my bestial instincts force me to dig a source for my passions in the driest of lands. I dig until my desires tell me to stop, and when they feel sickle, they force me to dig again.

My body moves irrationally colonizing the wants of a world I am yet to own.

Sure my bestiality brings unlawful pain, but it also teases a bliss, one that the human body is not able to cultivate.

And so I dig, and continue digging; until the wine bottles become empty, the coffee becomes weak, and my plate is naked of food.

I am a beast, and I am yet to discover something more deceivingly sacred than my unfortunate bestiality.

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