Damn you for exacerbating my hunger —
Don’t you know my days are difficult enough
Without the gnawing rising from constant to desperate?
But once the sparks strike my blood, it’s too late —
The dark cracks my ribs and I want
The teeth tear my flesh and I want
The worms bore my brain and I want and I want
And damn you, what gives you the right?
To wake the dead hopes in their tombs,
Gasping for air they can’t have?
Clawing at eternal stone, their fingers ground to bloody stumps
Screaming like broken glass, like the fear that you can’t hear them
— or worse, that you can hear them, and are disgusted
Damn it, you bastard —
Why couldn’t you have just let them lie?