food that killed

drops of blues,
on a frenzy.
i see them fall,
hard they hit the coarse earth,
unshook from the impact and careless,
break into may siblings.
i watch,i watch,repent that i cried,
save them from being a non entity,and cup them.

distasteful and yet i eat with gluttony,
for saving my skeletal being from forsaking me.
all that is left is not a square meal,but a jealous zeal.
laughter exclaims with malicious intent,but the hand that reaches,
is the hand that serves.

 

moving nimbus blues

imagine mass ignorance or better mass "who are you?",
suddenly it dooms upon you that yes this is what they teach,
fuck it has nothing to do with me being placid and dull,or  whether
its cold and raining outside,what is, becomes you,and will you stop
because the ending satisfies you or shall you transient with change.