Do you ever feel in awe?
In awe of how unfulfilling certain things in life are?
Like the weight you feel after gnawing on bones of
barbeque chicken and fat grains of white rice,
Each piece extending the flesh of your skin outward,
More and more towards a horizon known to man alone.
Each pound heavy and pulling you down
Towards an ephemeral comfort,
The kind of comfort that requires to be refilled,
awaiting the next set of chewing and gnawing.
So you go, devouring, swallowing until your flesh stretches to its limits
But your quest for satisfaction remains unfulfilled.