We are the vultures

Dirty,disgusting and ugly as sin

Circling lazily, high under the beating sun

Picking and pecking greedily on our fallen friend.

Feasting as we fight over the plumpest parts of the carcass

Shredding flesh, and shreiking obcenities

We break our agonizing fast with the glorious flesh of one of our own.

“Delicious” is murmurred through the cannabalistic crew of condors.

Not a single thank is uttered for the most welcomed food.

None are remorseful for the gluttonous act of gorging

Ruby red blood drip drip drips from curved mouths

None have manners enough to erase the evidence of the disgrace

Instead each wonder who will be the next

The latest meal ticket in the long repitition of survival

Soon, the rememberance of hunger will plauge each one again, as the wait resumes

Gurgles of full stomachs, groans of satisfaction, and the occasinonal belch

Passes down the sated line

Now waiting, patiently waiting for the fast to begin again

Before it consumes it’s next victim

Then and only then will the feast resume and the gruesome circle be complete once more.