Feast on Famine
- Carissa Myung
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- Joined: 20 Nov 2017, 01:42
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Feast on Famine
under my feet.
I hear
the hammering,
the heartbroken habitat.
I see
the bluebirds
pecking at skinned sorrows.
I feel
my roots
anchoring me deep.
My legacy cannot fly—not when it is asleep.
I am testament to my words:
my soil weeded,
my seeds reaped.
A blank slate—
That is the mind upon creation.
What grubby hands slather grime onto your plate?
Who nourishes your nurturement?
Watch your food contaminate.
Dust and ash in our minds, swept away. Dirt and mirth in our blood, sucked off. Darkness and madness, sinned on.
We exist. We live.
Humans, accordingly, act human.
That is a lie. We are not—
Humane.
We eat the flesh of fear. We consume companionship and devour desires. We feast on the folly of the mouth, famished. We swallow and spit sorrows. We rest on rancor. We choke on culled cynicism.
We are cannibals, monsters—
in the flesh,
ripe for harvesting.
Drunk on the taste, lick your lips. Consume human companionship:
leave her alone, swallowing acrid foulness,
leave him alone, sucking on embittered regret.
Both hungry, famished. Both thirsty, insatiable. Do not think: merely drink.
It is acidic.
Eat up.
- DustinPBrown
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