by Nick Gisburne
From day to day to day, a ceaseless grind,
I probe and pick apart the city streets.
Deserted, bombed by mindless men, I find,
Beneath the rubble, dark, delicious treats.
Cadavers. Here, a cat, preserved in ash.
A dog, its innards juicy, never dry.
Within the deepest piles of tainted trash,
A child, like all the others, born to die.
A human body blesses me with meat.
I long ago decided I would see
The beneficial bounty of defeat
Behind each nameless victim, he or she.
There are no others. I alone survive.
Abandoning morality, I thrive.
