Passion is but a short part of his every day thoughts, Kevin stands as a stud animal, his prime use is his maleness. He feels blessed to have such a mighty hose, but how it effects his thinking causes him much concern.
It is a constant battle with wits and lust as the big nostrils drink in raw scents of his surroundings. The passion comes upon him from things he once thought were a horrid stench. He sniffs and snorts, feeling equine induced urges to act and let go of his learned manners and those morals that only people long to help live their lives.
Time is now his worst enemy, as long hours of standing and listening to the gut digest hay and grains is a constant reminder of what it is to be a herbivore.
Again it is time that assaults his human thoughts and ways of thinking, bored he thinks much of his conquests, Veronica being his first. The names of all the others fade into some gray mist, their reminder to him is then the scent of urine and a heady odor of a female animal in her time of need.
Grazing is but a long mindless action, working strange feeling lips, mashing the fiber that it is, and per-pondering how he hated to eat salads might let him try to keep thinking, but if too fades from his mental grasp.
Come the dank and damp nighttime in his stall and with it Kevin thinks of how he is marked. The mark of the true beast is his lack of reasoning and understanding the world and those in his smaller realm.
Kevin has the mark of the beast just beginning to show its horrid head.
He stands and thinks about this idea, as from his stifle falls out the one head to which he knows will rule his future. As that massive dark hose fills and gives sensation, Kevin would smile if he could!