Goddamn
Your modern, ancient ways.

when you sense I'm hungry,
you rise from the river
with a
biting smile
and raise up forty, fine fish,
floating behind you
on an iron leash.

You make me watch
as they get gut.

the warm blood,
a delusion you say,
holding steaming innards
with pale hands,
quick and untouched.
see, it cools when cut,
like your own,
someday.

hearts refuse to pump,
eyes turn white,
and
muscle stops
pushing the mess into meaning
when we squeeze the skull.
see it disappear
into the nowhere
its borrowed from.

then,
you begin
to fillet and f*** the meat,
saying one day it’ll certainly rot,

toss the corpse in the river
since it drops
into dark wells
where scaled clones stare,

and above
the ripple swells
swell,
leaving no scars,
no memory or mark.

Then you toss
those thin carbon bones
unto my plate,
saying with a sneer
Eat up,
n stay healthy
Son.

That's all that's real,
there's the meat of life.

Well then,
goddamn, I guess.

I’ll stand against.
I know I can,
at least till I can't,
you false
nihilist Father.