Watching Walking Dead Poem by L.B. Temuco

Why is the heart of me selfish
so ravenously self-serving
so unaware of the hearts of others

In dank crusted tombs
I crawl through dark thickened waters
In the company of rats
who gnaw at me
with their underserved reputations intact

It is I who smells incomplete
it is I who lives in this sewer of a soul
not self-pitying
I just feel all the cold inhuman parts of me

They come at once
rip me open
turn my eyes into dull stones
on this faraway evil smelling rock
the devil left for me

I cannot avoid even
the stagnant breeze
of my own dreams
I have only children
with beautiful eyes

God
they don't see me now
their bones are strong now
their lights are brighter now
they do not hear the herds
with empty eyes

We all stood once
in the pool of the same making
in the light of ascendant love
in the grace of nurture