We didn’t even notice
that we had made time our enemy,
anger our passion,
bile our wine
and spite our care.
The world had sickened us,
twisted us,
given us sharp eyes
and sharp teeth
and sharp tongues
for killing,
but no soft places.
All rough edges
and abrasive substructures
composed of unstable material.
Gunpowder souls,
waiting to go off
in an instant.
Since when were we such crude weapons?
We used to be immaculate.
We used to be love.
Never quick to stoke a fire,
or rend flesh,
but builders,
maintainers,
nurturers.
We won’t point a finger
to assign blame,
for that would be
to admit weakness
and this world is now
a hall of devourers;
teeth gnashing,
heads lifting,
testing the air
for a hint of subservience.
The strong eat the weak
but the madmen,
they scare the shit out of everyone.
Hear them call,
their battle hoards to war.
Drums in the night,
chanting bloodlust.
Insane we have made ourselves.
Anger became madness,
but I remember
we were once lovers.
Soft paper flesh
easily wounded.
Our delights were a garden
and love was our nectar.
I know,
that we still beat
with those hearts.
HG – 2017
