I am
starving for humanity
My tongue
is passing as if outside my body and back into my chest
Like an
oil dipstick measuring the hue of corrosion seeping into the flow
My head
is static, sterile and compact externally immutable, yet
Conducting
this measurement at this moment
The lungs
are warm, alert, fuzzy and on guard to the glob
Baffled
below the left’s respiration indentation
The
proverbial tank of feeling is parched
Vision
blurred and fingers stoic at the tap of the keyboard
Hirsute
upper hands like gorilla mitts wanting to go hammer outside
Than face
the specter of a contemplated emotion animated
Dancing about
me as a coroner might do with successive application of higher learning
The announcements,
the degree of certainty
Of an
engineer compared to that of a musician
Science
and art at battle for a panoply of the empirical and faith mashed together
Like a
squirrel on a highway flashing through tires with the driver wondering
Did I
make contact? I did not notice a sound
or did I?
Keep in
motion in either iteration of outcome
The whelp
of ache it permeates the skin beneath this sweater and winter
Is
crawling its way into my workday again
The bed,
the silence, the sheets of meals wrapping from plate to plate
The repetition
it reverberates like a drip of water from an unstoppable sink
The flow
prevails the absence of sound to make clamor in a fortress of silent ruin
I can
hear through the nothing, the way a man listens to his stomach growl
The
chemicals of who he is speak in the consumption of his self
No one
else can detect one’s own orchestra with the same dexterity of ear
Crimp of
a cheek, jaundice hue, brittle hair and chemotherapy spew
Booming
out as rationalizations for why or how,
But none
of this sickness is a natural cancer this is a human endowed
With the
werewolf, the lycanthropic starvation for a species apart
Of wolf
and man, howling in the darkness of satellite television sunshine
The moon
buffet of beings and all this time is emaciating
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