From ash and dust you were composed
And from my own hands gathered.
Mud slicked hair and blood wine.
Swamp caviar and silver spoons.
Around the heap of waste you dine each night
On beautifully shattered china.
Your appetite hanging from the edge,
Your forehead collecting sweat.
Under the deep green waterfall,
It turns your stomach over.
And In your mind, a delicacy is nothing more.
So sweet and recurring
So clear and obsolete.
A bed of maggots to keep you warm
While you digest the absence of thought.
To end the day in satisfaction.
To eat alone in ignorance.
There's nothing more visceral.
There's nothing to live for.
You're naked and you'll never realize.
I made you in my image.
I created your desires
Your thirsts
Your cravings.
I made you
I am you
And you are nothing.
-
Author:
J. Palinski (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 3rd, 2017 09:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 48
Offline)
Comments3
I never read that version of the Garden of Eden before . It must be in one of the new translations . But vividly descriptive , like eating at McDonald's .
Great poem, really enjoyed
The body may be nothing but the Spirit flowing through it is.
Good write.
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