A jungle beast prowls the forest floor. Drawn by scent and instinct, it makes no choices except to follow, follow the scent that leads to necessity. Instinct, desire, the same, required....Many questions wait in the shadows for answers that can only come from one source, and the questions have no meaning, only the answer waiting to be found. Fire plays within a body, lighting eyes, heating skin, forcing its way out in growls and groans. Hungry for the feast, the beast follows the scent. Moving rapidly through the twisting paths of deceit and ambiguity, it feels with clarity, moving closer. Crouched with the fire of desire, it stalks, silently seeking its prey, its mate, fulfillment, release...With silent fury it pounces, taking life in bloody lust, lapping the soul it sought and found. Instinct takes its toll in tearing, biting pieces and warm life in bloody mouthfuls. Like the jungle, merciless, passionate, beautiful, it takes and gives, releasing as it is released to devour and breathe the future of life. Hungry growls escape this mind, sharpen these fingers to claws, light these eyes to fires. In passionate embrace, I find and am lost, to instinct.

-SMT 1998

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