Off I stride into the Obsidian void
Save a shimmer; light is devoid
The glow of the sickle Overhead
Highlighting the darkness I dread
Thousand stabbing eyes glaring
From endless darkness staring
A hermit in his solitude constrained
Packed in the leather bag
In which our true selves are contained
A recluse in a fleshy rag
I witness the oger trudging by
Dragging carcasses before my eye
Carnivorous beast gnawing bone
Depleting them of marrow
With a burdened groan
The odor of death in tow
The brute swings its fleshy flails
Towing cadavers in its trails
Sniffing for any whiff
Of prey at its griff
Bloodthirsty carnivore
Rancid to the core
While all else slumbers
The oger lumbers
Leaving the stench of decay
And I; the hermit; its carrion prey
© Jerry Langdon 2014
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