Carrion

As the gropes sacred sands,
the ground on which he sits melts
into his swollen pores. His skin absorbs
the polluted, frustrated steam that rises
from piles of the
wounded.

An angry grin begins to rise at the edges
of his broken lips. A slight ticking emerges from
the distance and masks the sound of beaten, dying
hearts. This time there will be no
sudden escape. No temporary
fix will help him climb away from their
misery.

They exist to slow his time and draw him
back inside the fold. The hollow
staccato clicks continue as
each one removes another ounce of
daylight from his eyes. He turns
his line of vision down toward
the seething mound of entangled flesh
below.

Each mouth the broken chants and empty
threats that form the mounting steam. He is
their new keeper - the living container that
will house their shame. His words are
broken and mixed as they fall faintly from parched
tongue.

He manages enough breath to gasp, "Brethren
behold - your final climb awaits!"

A voice from below whispers in reply, "But you are
sinking with us...the skyward light is fading."

The keeper glances around to find that the limbs
beneath him are shifting every moment. Crumbling
edges begin to form a dark circle around
the sunken pile of
humanity.