Gulch of Decay

Dead man laying in a gulch, head dangling in a stream eyes wide open as if a traversing dream, supplicated look of a muted scream in concordance with a deep jagged ravine, vultures looking to eviscerate his soul he never managed to transcend his goals, parched by a radiant searing heat all around is nothing except scarcity, and as the vultures cry overhead eagerly seeking to feast on carrion flesh. The old worn dusty trousers tattered and torn, a ripped up shirt sweat stained ruffles in the breeze old leather pig skin boots hanging off the feet this supine body now just resembles meat to the creatures that inhabit here unknown carcass to which causes no tears died on his own everybody's worse fear.