Gone are balmy days.
The jungles canon now applies.

‘DO NOT PASS’ reads the sign.

We are not precocious minds.

Olfaction overwhelmed on entry.
Burry plants scratch and,
sting.
A souse of sweat,
flowing free.

The itinerant pair are not prepared.
No place for eiderdowns,
no point to harangue.
They must find the jungles end.

Covered in glutinous sap.
Walking in silence.
Aphasiacs,
it would seem,
if there were any one else about.

Arborescent shrouds all around.
There must be an end,
no doubt.

Paltry food remains.
My partner robustious but enigmatic.
Intrepidly,
he panics.

I wish I were the same.
Unfortunately,
I am still sane.

Mandrills gather in a preponderant crowd.
Against them I am cowed and,
edentate.
The jungle we will now fecundate.

This is the jungles truth,
heed and,
stay away!

 

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