Written by: andrew delapruch

the vultures who hover &
wait for the freshly dead 
are best friends, ****ing BFF’s
with the curious curious
cats & kittens 
who will not allow one to
be themselves, who will
not get their fingers out of
the pie, who will not stay 
away & stop focusing on
everyone, everything,
but their own miserable,
mundane & hopeless
these gutters, these who
thrive on the ability, on
the very attempt to slice
the torso & take all that
someone holds inside,
all that is one’s secret feeling
of destiny, all that is pure &
special, unique to 
they can only be successfully
met in 
with an unflinching honesty,
with gritted teeth &
the notion that no one will
take what we each hold so 
that death is highly preferred
over the rape of
the individual,
for the sake of the