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Entwined Like Thorns and Vines to This Mortal Skin
A Prose Poem
gluttony — the hunger encapsulates us so, each breath a thirst for more air and water than we could ever truly need, this unquenchable need for the things beyond the flesh’s shell
envy — the green-eyed monster, or so they call it, when everyone wants what the someone other has, till we are fighting and our nails are bloodied and our chests are hollow cavities where empathy for our fellow man once dwelled
sloth — the want to do nothing, the ease in which you can avoid the toil of another day, that vagrant feeling that makes us all recoil from that heavy notion called work
lust — the ways in which we retreat to our chambers like no one else knows the secrets between our thighs, that wantonness run wild with skin skimming skin in the shadows offered by a moonless night, this unholy power we hold over each other
wrath — how quick we are to turn against each other, swords clashing, in violent dances that paint our streets red till we wonder ever so elegantly why war haunts our every step
greed — this is the want that destroys, that notion of collecting more and more even when there is nothing left to give or buy or take, and we fall prey to it every time we see the gleam of gold in another person’s eye
