Can anyone hear it?
The scratch scratch scratching from within these hollow walls,
Mere inches away from children at play?
Labyrinthine tunnels contain cellars, cells, chains, colorless creatures, and
Nightmares,
Terror,
Sing-song games played for one’s very life.

Can anyone hear it?
They’re voting.
Will you live?
Will you remain?
Human?
Or will you exchange your flesh for a code? A whispered secret? A lie? Technical jargon?
Perhaps you’ll opt for a symbol?

If so:
We will hang you,
Display you,
Stretch you,
Expose you,
Shine a light on you, and
Sing your song while
Offering up hymns of worship.
Then we will eat you.

Can anyone hear it?
My stomach is growling,
So hungry,
Calling you by name.
I long to be fed!
I long to be touched!
Soon, so soon,
Satisfaction will be
Carved,
Draped,
Chiseled,
And tattooed
Across the vast
Nothingness
Of my
Decomposing soul.

Can anyone hear it?
The sound of fullness is Mine.

*Side Note : I’m not 100% certain I wrote this poem, as it appeared in my Notes folder stamped 5 days ago. But I have zero recollection of writing it. If I was so impressed with someone’s poem that I copied it for myself, I don’t have any recollection of that EITHER.