I think I felt it

A lapse,

A momentary falter,

A readjustment of his grip,

Sometime during the age of industry.

Then, unmistakably, again, again.

It occurs in increasing intervals.

Doesn’t that fool know,

That the fate of the world rests on his shoulders?

His ugly face is a knot of exertion,

Sweat burns his eyes,

His muscles pang,

His stench wafts upward and offends my senses,

A strenuous groan escapes his clenched teeth,

Guttural, like the growl of a caged animal.

Yet his gaze remains firmly fixed downwards,

In shame’s submissiveness.

Another shift.

The cause is no secret to me.

My gnawing, clawing hunger

Human vices satisfy.

I gorge myself,

And he bears the weight that I gain.