Naivety towards location
Instinctual drives reference the prototype
As the primary preoccupation, yet it should have recalled the productive pedagogue
Like a tourist caught in isolation, begging for reprieve,
Falling for routines ranging from Crucifixion to Nativity,
A native never would have, an actor couldn’t know,
Each soldier, flamboyant and free, single file in unison,
Marching forward, stumbling sideways in search of, secrets in plain view,
Earthbound and elementary, jaded curiosity clouding the thoughts of the forsaken man,
A procedure without envy, awe necessary to remain under wraps,
The Penitentiary of denial would be on high alert,
Tonight it appears an inmate gains a chance to prove his worth,
How and why this all transpired will not be addressed,
It is information we’re certainly not privy to,
And knowledge, in this case, would create a cancellation; result in the invasion of privacy,
For all those secrets buried deep; hidden treasure of the home,
Shake the specificity of design,
It’s not as if, in this designated abnormality
A person of your stature would ever find something,
As the interwoven index fingers, the pressing of the palms,
Dangling in the open air, convection with conviction
An intimate connection with but one condition
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