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.
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