Appetite Vs Insight

Young men who live in cities
live as if they own the place,
little realising the place own them.
They are little boys in big bodies,
bodies enlarged by appetite.

When their money is matched
by their testosterone and adrenalin
then they will have the sex drive
of their choice, and then have
the thirst for owning property.
Each allowing them autonomy.

But they will realise all too late
how their eye for the gentler detail of life
shrank without them realising it.

Death Is A Piece Of Cake

The aspect of life that continually surprises me
is the middle class appetite for endless polite
(for which read evasive) conversations over bland food.
They like to see this as therapeutic,
when their lives are already so much
more comfortable than the closer-
to-the-knuckle existence of the billions
of humans and trillions of non-humans
on the planet, who get by with far less,
without invoking stoicism,
and who say nothing about it,
though we wail sentimentally
over their butchered remains.

Sometimes I think trained therapists
are aliens, who want their clients to be
as blind as possible to genuine otherness,
to disguise their foreignness of their origins.