Pilgrimage

I rise from my feathered comfort, one only achieved with torture My deal with the devil gives warmth and I shower until the steam tickles my throat Long enough to wash off the blood My feet are cuddled in bodies as I descend to my breakfast of victims Washed down with the elixir of exploitation: black beans and mother's white tears Satiated, I gather keys to the poison cart and join the other killers Sadness and suffering on the hour while we monsters trickle forward towards the financers Arrival and I take a dangerous breath, one I contribute to by my being Working hard until lunch, when I hail Caesar and his cadaver accomplice Back to the toil as the clones finish off him or her I dream of my evening freedom, life releasing a whine as blood and root combine The watched leg-like hand reaches the glorious digit and we rise Herded up the raceway, I reach my stunning box I contemplate myself and our species as we slow into the jam, lots of flavours but ultimately the same I see myself in a consumers window to my soul I question and define us, painful though it is Destroyer through choice or willful ignorance multiplied in a never-ending stream of blood Back at the cave my appetite has left, I turn to the box of distraction to aid my escape Confirmation hits hard and I recoil as drought, famine and extremes seem a normal condition If suffering is sought, we will never disappoint; as war rages, be relieved of your position in this rat race Depressed I retreat, battered and bruised Wrapped in softness I sink, deflated I turn the sadness, pages of another life, and the realisation that equilibrium sought will never be balanced So many are under the scales of the demon and equality is just a word with little meaning to the victim I drift towards tomorrow feeling both sorry and relieved, sad but secure, sick while fed The luck of my location means I suffer the least, how cruel and ironic this moral compass The West is the beast, so many sheep missing a good shepherd I finally arrive that tomorrow can be different, no need for madness as Einstein defined I can be the hero of my little life, bee the change, from something I despise I have woken I'm finally released, no joint enterprise of suffering, no more a sheep