Yesterday's Problem?

After an age - an attack. All aggression as

Bleeding, broken bodies build but

Callous cavaliers continuously claw craven chunks.

“Damn!” Dusk drips down,

Energetic expletives eloquently exclaimed. Errant

Gore.

Horrified, he (Honoured He), hefts his

Iridescent iron ingot in inspired if

Judicious

Killing.

* * *

Late

Morning

Now.

Out over our

Putrid piste

Quixotically quiet

Ravens ravage relentlessly: rooting,

Scouring, sampling.

Tomorrow? The

Untamed underbelly,

Vicious vermin.

Why? Who will worship? Worms?

Xenophobia:

Yesterday's youthful

Zenith?