After Slaughtering the Moon and Eating It

The hungry man, feeding on the blood of the moon,feeding on suffering,has gone blue, the blue of grief.

The man has his loneliness, yet he is not alone.He has his inevitable hunger.His beloved hunger.This man, sunk deep in the depths of hunger,

sits now alone in the very chest of separation.Separation on separation, his dead soul goes on rotting.

And out of the deaththe organic fertiliser of love keeps being born.Really, it begins in fertile rot.