I wait in
anticipation for
the crest of

Pray silently
each crash
will be Tsunami,
each quake,
the tremble that
shakes us awake.

It is more
likely our demise
will be at our hands.

We are back stabber,
blood sucker,
flesh rotting
over bone.
We burn walls,
smolder in darkness,
stretch, twist,
smudge soot on
breast bone.

We are animal,
creature, wicked.
Scavengers driven
by hunger alone.

I am
no different.

I am starved for
chaos outside
all control,
a rattle of the earth,
a hum of the sky,
a crack of heaven
and hell
splintering all
we are.