The Hungry One

He crawled from the weeping flesh chasm,

Hungry for existence at large,

And the lust from that initial orgasm,

Gripped his flesh, and his will, and took charge



He entered the dark, eerie forest,

Just as soon as he could ramble upright,

And his appetites afforded no-rest,

In a world so prosaic and uptight



He penetrated each shadowy corner,

Plunged his tongue into every crevasse,

And he ate every victim and mourner,

Devouring countless creatures en masse



Delving too deeply—too greedily,

His soul was saturated by ‘sin’,

And his white-hot wont quivered needily,

With every wettened fissure he fit-in



The forest had taken exception,

Its members had met and agreed,

That this building’s unfounded erection,

Wanted cutting in order to bleed



His bones broke like dry, lifeless branches,

His blood spilled like claret-from-cup,

Like vegetation that rapidly blanches,

Bounty discharged but never picked up