This thing came to pass where I was envious.

This thing came to pass where I thought I was not free.

This thing came to pass where I saw people were not free.

I perceived there to be some great shame, was I wrong?

I was ashamed of my own desire.

Is my envy misplaced?

Someone told me I'm not so different.

Yet why do I pine for physical difference?

I am thirsty for physical sensation -- my body's alteration.

Have I been fooled?

Pragmatism it may not be,

But can desires ever be wrong?

Must all passions be logical, and not aesthetic?

If I desire for another, must it be of my own?

Deep, and flirtatious physical envy,

And a thirst for return to naivety, primitive reality--

And damned, again, the wild sexuality!

This thing came to pass where I raised my hands,

Imagined paws, and said "fie, I'm done with it,"

"String me up and call me a fox in robes."

And then I dreamed that maybe fox-faced people wouldn't judge.