Dance of The Grey

Look at them, faces filled
with inconspicuous hatred
towards anything that gets
in the way of THEIR
selfish ways…


the same hatred they feel
when they run into mirrors
that reflect the rotten
flesh
they attempt to neglect


associating themselves to
football teams for which they
do not play;
blaming everything (and everyone) else
for their own shortcomings

being accountable to
nothing but
their feeble,
fatuous excuses;
a pestilence of
their decay.

And their spoiled meat
will continue to
break apart from
their haggard bones
slowly
carefully;
until one fortunate
sunny day,
There will be nothing
left of them.