blind well-wishing vultures
hovering around
the factory oozing with sperm
the mouth agape
spilling stories and facts
infectious with rebellion
infused with desire
for life and
for freedom

demanding love
attention, embraces
singularity in feeling and thought
comfort and security
hungry for flesh
and the future of love
ready to tie down and gag
with their loving bondage

vultures smelling competition
shrieks of ‘mine’
from their ravenous beaks
the flesh
not to be split
the flesh
not to be shared

rope and collar dangling
from their elegant soft claws
claws of caring
tails of passion

the flesh
playing dead
in the hope
of self-preservation
of freedom in thought
giving itself fully
to the choir of ideas
the cacophony of senses
the mystery of living

senses – shut down
communication – broken
what remains
is to watch the infinite theatre
of ideas and knowledge
not flinching
playing dead
for the vultures are hungry
for the rope and collar
are still