deviant mongrels

my dogs have an essence,
different from a human soul.
they’re connected to something,
a liberated spirit, scared by thunder,
disproportionate to their bravery.
the benevolent good samaritan,
they’re each different,
but each connected to the other.
they’re inclined to be hungry dogs,
at the same time, every day.
i do not expect any vindication,
or apologize for the trespasses,
of these deviant mongrels.
they heal the wounds,
of absence, sorrow and pleasure.
they join in my commission,
an essence of frenzied infatuations.
am i the one that is ignorant?
i know the extent of my brutality.
in comparison with my biography,
the literal is not exact litigation.
my dogs understand my complexity,
and the danger of my sincerity.
their names are a lame attempt,
to consummate their communion.
discourse is settled by apostasy.
is it better to be empty or hungry?
we are blessed with uncertainty.
their minds are not satisfied,
i expect that to be true always.
we chant the same vulgar prayers,
i find that peculiar for goodness sake.

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