We Are The Black Death

The human inside of us has died
We are empty vessels
Floating like wraiths in the fields of the fallen

We are the earth’s wound
That’s grown to infection and spreads like a cancer
We’ve lived too long

Hungry to touch what we cannot feel
Our gaping mouths fill with flies
Bred from our own word’s poison

Hungry to feel what we cannot have
Our hands clutch blades kept warm
In the backs of our brethren
We’ve lived too long

The man inside of us has died
We wrap our womens’ thighs around our lies
In false moments of closeness
Bastard sons beget bastard sons
And they’ve lived too long

We masturbate our greed
And feast while the needy’s whipped back bleed

We hang our faces on statues
And bask in their towering shadows
We’ve lived too long

We paint on others’ canvases
So that we can still create
We display our work to a blind void
Our hands have drawn too long

We write short chapters of our lives
As we’d like to be seen through other people’s eyes
We magnify all the wonderful things we’ve done
But our real horror is hidden
We wave
With a skeleton hand

There is no dawn
For our time
We dance in a field of ashes
In which we could never cohabitate

We peer into
Our vast black aura
We’ve lived too long