Grasping at straws,
panicking now with the need
to float away, or start a fire.
One look confuses with
all the bewilderment
a fool can muster.
They are so near to heaven,
these lost souls that
brush and glide against each other,
’til so often friction gets their better
and they burst into flame.
Craving one more spin
on the vibrating love-o-matic,
prodding inanely at each other;
not knowing,
not caring,
rarely even curious.
Slaking savage thirsts
and imbibing each other’s
humiliation;
until we are all humiliated.
No longer even human.
I for one,
no longer even think
about sinking,
or swimming,
or burning;
for I am building a boat.
I hope you all die,
choking on each other’s blood.
HG – 2000-2005
lovely poem