Contusive Memories

Wryly, shoddy workmanship works its way down my bloodline
When'ere the first father's sire plucked his Apple from Eve
Through origin, planed nothingness till plumbed depths concede

Were but the first the last, the serpent's tail to its mouth
Should the encircling empty forever, I would not doubt
Certain existences overlap in the sacred circle so devout

Casting its fray of fogged surmise
Prophetic clarity sheens oe're these eyes
A word to the wise -

"Sell not your soul, it comes once in a lifetime"
"Gamble a gander, no one ever thought twice"
"Most happy with two women"

Therein lies the price.