what is life but want
a line that embodies a whisper
fine as a strand of silk,
just as fragile

we crush, we stamp
we wreak detruction
but we also think we love
and we cherish

but is love love when you want more
more till they break
till they hate
till its over

what is enough

love we spoil by demanding more
eager to feed our rapacious mouths and our craving minds
always greedy, begging for more
insatiable
more
merely for us
what we get slips between the cracks
falling below our flaws
so that we are hindered, caged, by our own souls
and when this is devoured
we justify searching for more
desiring the exceptional

life oozes opportunity
it pours like the rain,
drips like condensation

and yet we stand
mouths gaping open, hands grabbing
how long will we stand before grasping a hand, an opportunity, a mouthful
how long,
how long do we stay yearning

our cold lives will never be full
our voracious bodies can never be blessed by satisfaction

we want to know
we want to love
love the one
love life
love ourselves

what we really long for is time

a clock strikes
the revalation that we possessed the world weighs heavy
hanging precipitously but it is not to be shaken off
it is a chain
a prison
forged of gluttonous greed,
regrattable malancholy,
gloom

what is this life but want  
and who should care
for your bleeding, your suffering, your tears
but those of whom you demanded the world
they were the world
now ravaged irreparably by our want

and now we sit,
wanting for all of time
until the end

humanity is hated by humanity

                                                                             -k.g.