Tenuous Threads

We are parasites, bulbous bodies entangled, 

Swarming atop nests of rotten flesh, fighting

And crowding on an already choked planet, 

A hive mind of greed and gluttony, evil oozing

From our pores, sickly brown muck slicking 

Our palms as we tear through dying matter. 

Our bulging guts and sunken eyes scan for 

Nourishment as we traverse the hollowed husk

We inhabit, moondust clinging to our scaled 

Skin, bloody fingertips dripping black oil, a 

Secretion of toxins pooling in the beds of our

Nails, black craters spreading and devouring. 

Carnage has become our nature, bestial and 

Savage, a dying race clinging to the tethers of 

Salvation, unborn and unloved in an alien land,

Castaways forever wandering the limitless 

Horizon, searching for the world we destroyed, 

Consumed by fangs of shadow and bloodlust. 

We are husks of our ancestors, withered shells 

Wavering on scorched winds, senseless beings, 

Numb to pain, programmed solely for survival, 

Our receptors coded to self-destruct upon 

Successful procreation, mechanical and artificial, 

We trudge on, awaiting death’s forbidden embrace.

Reviews

[Shannon]

Yeah, evolution’s a b***h. I like it; very much Henry Miller describing a Paris of a hundred years ago or so. At least we seem to have gotten rid of the bed-bug problem.