abyssia

step aside
you're not wanted here
not your kind
run, hide
else they'll hunt you
pink-skinned sack of water
so juicy...
i digress
some cling to their pain
they spread it
it cannot be taken without consent
you see the difficulty
never-ending pain
perhaps we ease it for a moment?
eleven, thirteen, forty-two
numbers - me? no.
another me
signs everywhere
wherever signs are sold
whenever tales are told
signs of
of cessation?
so easy to see when one sees rightly
truth within and without.
bleed out their pain - our pain
a cup, receives and divulges...
a vessel
on the mark twain!
not that kind of boat
a ferry, perhaps.
uncertainty within certainty that
that all is uncertain
but without coincidence.
worship as action
not on bended knee
then, perhaps...
maybe your kind and mine?
not quite human
the only way to see
to see humanity.
come, stand and watch
your kind is unkind, unwise, unaware
always striving
noble, loving, selfish, alone
the enemy at home.
we bleed for you, for your kind
weep for you
but most of all
fear.
consumer - this is not a
blue light special
not an endless feast
though maybe, if you keep breeding...
ah, must not think of THAT feast!
only if necessary, they say.
i'll tell you when to run
shame you've left nowhere to hide...
stripped of your sacks,
hides dipped in offal
tacked to the moon!
you say history repeats...
wise words with Truth
why then do you not see?
dust to dust
do not blow our way
unless, of course
you are ready to stay.