I prey on the useless; I prey on the defenseless.
Their meat is soft, it cuddles my palate.
It latches my lips, it thatches the roof,
the canopy of my indulgence spree.
They’re boneless, they don’t trap between
my teeth; their fibers are so weak to reek
the evidence of hidden resilience.
They’re toothless; they’re void of strength.
And I remain here at the bottom of the abyss,
waiting for a flight missed, for a smell of blood.
A second of failure could define death and breath,
and cud to be chewed for food or delight.
How can I live through this, an animal
who doesn’t know hunt, who doesn’t know danger?
Hunger comes, I am still lame. It’s a shame
to only dine on the failure of another.