Before my post-prehensile days
Philosophy was recondite conundrumate
A rock with a fossil inside —
That almost looked made up
A neologistic artifact
Brachiopod shells captured within
Cracked and fractured shale
Before fracking wracking obdurate skull
Could question the would be in the woods
The forest would I ever find it
And what would I do when I found it
Would never understand it
Could not get through the woods
Of words, worlds and woulds
And those mocking my wolves
And my escaped criminals
That we all secretly root for
Because they are very bad but they
Still have that primitive
Life Death lust that is not
Pure and Noble in itself
But that we long for
Because we do not have it
Anymore, No more Forever