poem-Carrion Feast!

carrion feast
I will feast on carrion comfort
I will feast without utensils
For the dark night of the soul has set
A table for me complete with pencil
To catalogue all that I digest
I have crept furtively into your dining hall
The one you call Holy
And know the fruits on my plate
Will bring death, but yours are gall
and so
Call me Hyena
Call me Vulture
Call me Hyena
Say I falter
But you will not tell me
What I eat.
Rather I feast on carrion comfort
And chew with mouth agape
Than sit at your table of forbidden fruit
And suffer eternity in wait
For the scraps at your jealous lord’s foot
I have tasted the salt of my own starving tongue
As I obeyed your god
'Sit, Slave, be good, be calm
Eat when I say it's time,'
Which it shall never be.
Call me Hyena
Call me Vulture
Call me Hyena
Say I falter
But you will not tell me
What I eat.
What decayed matter is this,
That I eat to-night
On the dark hours exists
A hunger, a plight
Does this dish of death spell "weak"
Weak to eat what's at one's feet
To entertain the tray--
what decayed matter is it
that I now masticate
In my hours of darkest
Desperation, I say
Does this morbid meal spell "frail"
Frail with imperfect fatigue
You entertained the tray--
Ask your god
did he not
make me this way?

(c)2010 LuzBriar