Like excrement exuding forth from the rear of an ass,
The corpse of a dying culture regurgitates itself.
Cultivating catacombs of sycophantic cannibals,
The repugnant mother holds an abominable feast.
Thrown upon its thrall’s plate is the past remade;
An effigy of all that it neglects and abuses.
Its slave devours what it unconsciously remembers
As the sweet fruit that germinated its withering being.
Now, turned to bone, emaciated and deprived of Life,
The once bountiful garden seeds only its gross demise.
Collapsing in upon itself, it cries out for sweet mercy;
Yet its salvation, it ignored, to feed on its own form.