There are too many lotus eaters

There are too many lotus eaters

Riding a wave of forgetfulness

Undemanding, acquiescent

Content to remain yoked

The stench of their necrotic souls

Soaked in the shadow

Of apathy

Drowned by their own hand.

A wicked narcosis

Of neurotic interconnectivity

A mutuality of narcotic endeavour

A pliant malaise

Swept up into the corner

Gathered in a gutter

Barely able to rest in peace

Before the vultures tear them to pieces

The crows carry them off.

The ravens never leave their tower,

Preferring to wait

For the stygian apocalypse

The monolithic collapse

When with blackened wings unclipped

They pour forth

And decimate the land

By their own hand

The talon and claw

The beak and the maw.

The sorrow of their wrath

Will be sacrificed

For good measure

As easily done, as eating a lotus leaf

Of sweet forgetfulness

For the sake of life

As baseless pleasure

Meaningless joy

Carnal privilege.

Whilst the land all around

Is laid waste

The bodies of undead dreams

Left to rot

And their memories

Used as fertiliser.