If I open up myself from the very bottom
And expose it all to the cold winter air
And my organs hurt like the day I got 'em
Would this universe record my vacant dare?

There is no evisceration that will cause substantiation;
There is no degree of exposure which can offer cover.

Regardless of passion and times of attempt
To gain a connection to the primal life source,
It's bound to wind up a sad contretemps.
All human efforts fall short, pained and forced.

When all flesh is flayed and all words are said
You'll earn the secret of nothing; the goal of the dead.

Heroes are drawn and quartered like on a butcher's block.
They take it cleanly like a man while they contemplate the cause.
Cowards sit in filthy rooms and think they matter when they talk
To themselves mostly but always and never with a pause.

Folding hands inward and a bowing of the head just so
Might mean more than all your words.

You knew that, though.

E*vis`cer*a"tion (?), a.

A disemboweling.


© Webster 1913.

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