Silence

A pain ****** my left arm
and I open my eyes

I am lying
in a wasteland,
wasting away

A vulture's beak presses
deep into a mangled flesh wound
made above
my right pectoral muscle

I feel the eyes
of the vulture,
staring into me,
and I feel connected
to it

I think,
if this is the end
of everything,
then I suppose
it's not the worst
way to go

The vulture picks at me,
cleaning my innards
with it's bloodied beak
I feel nothing
Nothing inside me,
nothing beyond
me to envision

These days
are silent,
albeit my screaming voice,
and I wonder
if the atmosphere
trembles subtly
while my lungs
collapse

Light is only in my eyes
reflected by the memories
I'd walked through
in my years,
and the trees
that line
my path
bend
I break

There is little solace
in this heavy heart
knowing it has been beaten
and beating
for something
more
With the vulture
having emptied
my decomposing body,
we fly