company picnic

the company picnic took place without much ceremony or celebration and usually when we weren’t all that hungry but we didn’t eat much anymore anyway because sometimes you felt full when a dream died of natural causes over the course of a forgettable life or in the absence of such endeavor and sickness and satisfaction pushed blood to limbs all the same anyway and sometimes we wanted our fingers to bleed what little we had left into empty cells predicting our demise with unbearable accuracy or into agape mouths of those bleeding out in a similar state of indifference with hopes of dissolving the muscle and bone that hoisted us into fluorescent lighting that brought us life like gas station heat lamps our great sacrifice wasn’t that different than the eternally rotating cases lips and holes our climax was the feel of scalding grates the caress of the spatula and the womb of intestines from the nest groomed carrion and their journey for flaccid submission