soon its done
in my dreams i fly as one
of the vultures but oddly
cannot look upon the victim
circling, circling
the morbid feel persists
pseudo-intellect and rationalization
do not satisfy my gnaw.
the victim, helpless and unknowing
dies not to satisfy my hunger,
only my need.
closer,
is it merciful that the
victims face lies shrouded
or a punishment i shall
bear forever.
closer,
there is no mercy
a thousand shrouds cannot conceal
when the knowing precedes the deed
what grotesque thing,
what monstrous host,
invite the guest
and then devour it.