“Originality” Feast Upon Me

originality rots like a body 

kicked into a bottomless well,

you give it your all and still drown 

your remains never found,

the cracked souls who openly feast 

upon themselves for the world to witness

finance the media business,

self-sacrifice sells papers,

I broke and insisted I was fine,

I’ve died twice and never 

made the headlines, 

look at me now, 

I’m just a Donkey 

carrying the weight 

of an outcome 

I’d usually run from,

I was there before 

the war began

I saw its structure 

I qualified as its killer

and then everything I knew 

was taken from me,

no one gives a fuck 

if you end up in the gutter

most will step on your 

back to protect 

their Armani tracksuits

and Gucci boots

they’re just the feeders 

who’ll devour me, 

slowly 

chewing 

on 

my 

thorax,

I don’t want to die 

at the hands 

of the carnivorous insects

fully conscious as they 

crawl inside my head, 

laying their larvae 

so when they hatch 

they’ll dispatch

a parasite infantry 

to feast upon my 

remaining originality

slowly excreting me further

into the bowls obscurity