The Wolf - Fit For An Autopsy

Stalking the herd with a rapid sense of purpose.

The desperate hunter

Smells the fear in the fleeting cattle.

Driven by survival, and the

Sound by the children crying.

Surrounded by flies, maggots, and

Parasites.

Waiting to feed on the bodies of the dying.

The old wolf

With silver in his eyes, hears more than you see and knows it is him

Who is not truly blind.

The cracked teeth never fail to chew trough

The bone.

Guardian of nothing.

The rotting earth is his throne.

Convulsing in final word conversations.

Indulging in last supper death

Bed invitations.

The vultures tear at barren life.

Scavengers pick at

The chalk lines of dry corpses disgust for all that’s breathing and

That’s living.

Decomposition of the wretched failure we call our

Lives.

Watch them feed, a colony of fools.

Scraping at the plates of

The lesser beings.

Insatiable impatience.

The wolf is foaming at the

Mouth.

The flock turns into a frenzy.

Bloodthirsty Appetite.

Devolutionized through carnage piece by piece, bite by bite.

Process

Of human extermination.

Progress by impending elimination.

The

Wretched failure we call our lives.