maybe the flesh of animals
is that which sates us
after all, we too are animals
albeit
well dressed and behaved-
but so are those in the wild
in their home
their habitats
across the world,
perhaps across all worlds,
but yet we feast
upon the lesser forms
with no defense
there is no honor in this
but then,
there might be no honor in survival
the perception of holding the clock’s hand
a thought
of control
when there is none,
instinct above demand
and so
we are,
bon appetit my friends.