Sameness to others excludes me, even if it is truth. Brother hood eludes my time grasping, the envious, but nonetheless different stature that others know, that I know too, but cannot have. Brother hood stands before me ready to pounce on me, I have no reserves to fight back or win. Laser lights separate the brotherhood of relations. They kill my existence before it is proven. When it is, they ignore it. Self-righteous members affect my equilibrium. Most are. The big one. The small one. The ones in between the two on the outside. The unit collapsed.

 

        They are salamanders crawling and intermingling like strangers, pissing their clansman secrets quietly. 

 

        In the middle of the night, the desperate moans are heard from across town. And into the day, meeting by chance, sees the residue of the nights gone by.

 

 

Grapple. The paramount entrees a few to its side. A hate milieu. Shit used upon each race to express the distrust, it had to be, it seemed. No one had the energy to fight it off. A distant lumber of corralled into the garage and new profits were taken. Figures were thrown around carelessly to defect any misgivings about the total worth.