Revolte
02-01-2012, 12:53 AM
The vulture is watching and my vision is fading. I'm not sure if I have legs anymore to run with and if I do, I don't have the energy. He, the vulture, perched on a dead tree branch above my leaking scalp is spreading his wings. Here I lie beside a lone dead weeping willow surrounded by rocks, sand and a nearby lake. Here I lie about to become a scavenged meal for my feathered friend.
I wonder if he is thinking “Hungry, hungry, big bird I, little man you, hungry, hungry!” or perhaps he is wiser then that “Well stranger, seems we have met for a reason. You to become food for I, and I to become comfort for you. No one deserves to die alone, and no creature deserves to starve.”
Be it fate or otherwise makes no difference. Here I lie, still, to become a treat for a bird, a bird! How can I, who has traveled the world feet bared as one man interlocked with the very fabrics of life and the very puppet-strings of death, become food for something like a vulture? A creature who has never worked a day in his life, a feathered beast who is too disgusting to be taken for anything other then a monster.
I bet he thinks the same thing, he and I aren't so different. I fly with my feat and he with his feathers. But I'd imagine many wealthy folk have had similar thoughts. Some people thought of me as a bum. A thirteen year old girl once asked me why I do drugs. Can you believe that? She must have thought I was a junky! Sure I've had my share of whiskey and cigarettes but I've never touched a hard drug in my life! Her mother must be so proud of her little Annie to think such wonderfully rude thoughts about someone she has never met, simply due to his class. Or in my case lack of it. Yes, what a proud, proud mother.
That vulture is still just looking at me, waiting. What is he waiting for? He could have me now if he wanted I won't fight back. I haven't ate in weeks I shouldn't have got this far as it is. I'm far enough into dying to already be dead. So why doesn't he just have me? Why must he just stare at me like that?
“Have me!”
“Just ****ing have me!”
Here he comes! He is flying to me now! It will all be over soon! Ah my feathered friend, thank you. Thank you. I've seen everything, there is nothing left to see and with nothing left to see there is nowhere left for me.
No, he didn't come to eat me. He is just perched beside me now, staring at me. What? What is he doing? He is laying against me. Why is he doing this? Is he too starved and tired? Yes, he is sleeping. No, he will not awake.
Goodnight my feathered friend, you beautiful creature. I too must sleep now, goodnight.
I wonder if he is thinking “Hungry, hungry, big bird I, little man you, hungry, hungry!” or perhaps he is wiser then that “Well stranger, seems we have met for a reason. You to become food for I, and I to become comfort for you. No one deserves to die alone, and no creature deserves to starve.”
Be it fate or otherwise makes no difference. Here I lie, still, to become a treat for a bird, a bird! How can I, who has traveled the world feet bared as one man interlocked with the very fabrics of life and the very puppet-strings of death, become food for something like a vulture? A creature who has never worked a day in his life, a feathered beast who is too disgusting to be taken for anything other then a monster.
I bet he thinks the same thing, he and I aren't so different. I fly with my feat and he with his feathers. But I'd imagine many wealthy folk have had similar thoughts. Some people thought of me as a bum. A thirteen year old girl once asked me why I do drugs. Can you believe that? She must have thought I was a junky! Sure I've had my share of whiskey and cigarettes but I've never touched a hard drug in my life! Her mother must be so proud of her little Annie to think such wonderfully rude thoughts about someone she has never met, simply due to his class. Or in my case lack of it. Yes, what a proud, proud mother.
That vulture is still just looking at me, waiting. What is he waiting for? He could have me now if he wanted I won't fight back. I haven't ate in weeks I shouldn't have got this far as it is. I'm far enough into dying to already be dead. So why doesn't he just have me? Why must he just stare at me like that?
“Have me!”
“Just ****ing have me!”
Here he comes! He is flying to me now! It will all be over soon! Ah my feathered friend, thank you. Thank you. I've seen everything, there is nothing left to see and with nothing left to see there is nowhere left for me.
No, he didn't come to eat me. He is just perched beside me now, staring at me. What? What is he doing? He is laying against me. Why is he doing this? Is he too starved and tired? Yes, he is sleeping. No, he will not awake.
Goodnight my feathered friend, you beautiful creature. I too must sleep now, goodnight.