Thanksgiving

October 24, 2005

At a table, silent in prayer,

I stared at the food before me.

Thank you for giving me life,

I said to myself, while the others

whispered to their God.

Giving thanks? Fuck.

My mind is damaged,

My body broken.

My heart belongs to no one.

My soul clutches to my ribs.

At a table, silent in prayer,

I stared at the knife before me.

Cut me free,

I said to myself, while the others

whispered to their God.

Shed me of this skin I wear.

Eating is no longer satisfactory,

Talking is empty, conversations die.

Blindness overtakes me, but

I still see more than before.

Thankful for that?

I feel sympathy for that turkey

For I have been carved

To be fed to the dogs too.

There was no swift death for me

Only eternal imprisonment.

Hell is not other people

You were wrong, Sartre

Hell is being eaten alive

And spit out in disgust

At the Devil’s Thanksgiving.

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