Matter is dead,
dead or dying.
And in it, craving
craves its dissolution,
rehearses dissolution.
Expense of energy
in voluntary death.

Do not keep it young
or leave a creaky scream unwrung,
a forbidden song unsung,
a sin unsunned.

A pleasure’s but a pleasure,
and on pleasure’s wings
a man gets high,
remembers that sirens sing
and dolphins sigh,
that matter
never matters.


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