Dear Misfortune

By nature's cruel design, I reflect
and lament at shadows unform
Lines that do not break, veins
Not protruding
Muscles, not boiling, nor to the surface rising
Venom, and fuel, not swarming
No evidence of life left in a machine
of insignificant evolutionary consequence
Along broad shoulders vent
A weakness that,
From the size of it, one could not predict
Nor to the futile retreating suburban objections
Could an ear be lent
But the machine at the pinnacle
At the top of it's design, in class
Through history, will moments pass unnoticed
Unreplicated, through chance
Of nurture's cruel design

Sticky Fingers

Gorged,
'til it's fit to explode
A life in excess, by Roman demands
There's fruit spilling out of the mouth that foams
Lust, Greed
Now the belly moans
'I'm barely alive!'
So we stuff it some more
The hole in my life
That I choose
To ignore
....sticky fingers
Lust, Greed
Won't stop until it splits at the seams
Consumed by consumption,
Beyond the body's means
And I look in the mirror at what's
Caking those lips
Evidence of a crime never brought to justice
'Til I'm sick of myself - until it hurts so much
I get what I deserve, desserts, and such
Like the bloated slug, plump and swollen
Hanging tongue like the overfed sow
Or the bovine
Lust, Greed
Like a sickly leach, alluding to the phallus
Enraged
It rages
Like the cold wind, sighs
My stomach amassed,
Yet there's nothing inside
LUST
GREED