We are Earth’s scavengers,
patiently waiting for the chance to steal and consume.
The carcass we take into snarling jaws
already stripped bare, beyond recognition.
The flesh reeks of decay,
yet us scavengers’ relish, flourish.
Bone upon bone,
piling sky high,
our hunger only grows stronger, day by day.
We travel for miles, starvation reaching its peak,
until our ravenous, quelling thirst ruptures.
Deconstructing and dividing the smallest touch of morality,
which we superficially exploit onto a temporary pedestal.
Our guilt complex makes this achievement heavy,
our primitive instincts to conquer too much of a burden to bear,
the weight of moral value like a chain strapped around our Achille’s heel.
We are the Fenrir, the manifestation of our greed,
as we grow too large, and wide for our pathetic iron shackles,
We are a bipedal black hole,
walking aimlessly with our fanged mouth, wide open as everything is vacuumed in.
Our stomachs bottomless pits.
Us scavengers aren’t able to comprehend the notion of looking back,
we were told to always look forward, or our essences would turn to dust.
Our nature is to be blinkered to our misdeeds,
like broken in stallions, domesticated to unrecognition.
Our cannibalistic tendencies are kicking in,
we’re close to a precipice where there will only be ourselves left,
and we’re drowning ourselves,
melting in an unmerciful heat.
We’ve chewed up and spat our carelessly what life gave,
barely able to share around scraps,
very soon we’ll wither, like a dried up flora.
Moisture being sucked dry.
A mummified memory, lying within the dunes of a desert wasteland.
Written 8th July 2015