29 April 2011

Cannibal

Like a blur,
Body races to its peak,
Top form,
Fast twitch,
Bone mass.
Cells divide and duplicate.
Neurons stretch like lonely fingers
For partners in the electric darkness,
Insulating with organic armor,
Until
Maximum potency.
Full growth.
Process complete.

Procreate.

Reverse.
Flesh recognizes
Its obsolescence,
Tears away,
Droops and stretches.
Synapses drift apart
In clouds of staticy black ash
Like galaxies expanding into the…

There is no cure
For what is no sickness.
No antidote for mankind.
The reproductive robot
Powers down.

New machines
Cannibalize the old.

Repeat.


I remember learning the difference between maturation and aging, and that the body doesn't die because it's worn out, but because its served its single biological purpose. Day 29. Probably at Writers Island

2 comments:

  1. This brings to mind the age-old question "do you really want to live forever?" I think that this poem applies spiritually as well; we reach our zenith, fade, and our thoughts, words, and memories are left behind to be incorporated into the lives of a new generation.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm glad my words got you thinking. Thanks, Li.

    ReplyDelete