The Feeding

Led to the slaughter,  
we were
Aftermath of self isolation,
community lockdown, for our
protection  this fucken virus.
 
Mental health,  no longer  
a concern instead it had
 become degrees of  
mental illness  
 
Healthy minds deteriorated,  
shutting down their  will
to manage  
Hunger,  not familiar to most had
become starvation  
Vitamin and  mineral depletion  
was the new normal  
 
Netflix  gone,  
replaced with Public Service announcements  
"Your number will be called  
when your bed is ready"
it says over and over again  
 
Mandatory ©Ensure for
everyone delivered to your  
door,  god damn vanilla  
tasted wretched  
 
"Lullabye and Goodnight"
it says on the label WTF  
does that mean  
 
Sounds from the prison  
the one on the outskirts of town.
Built two years ago,  never  
opened until now.
 
 Cries  rang through the streets  
continuous from midnight  
until dawn  
Single file lines endless rows  
of people they walk  
 
Trance like,  gnawing on a bone delivered to them when their  
number was called  
they walk  
 
Mother's without children
 forgot they were there
 Father's without sons  
they walk  
 
Steel doors buzz, then slam
 only room for one
 The rest,  herded into a mass,  
of arms and legs.
 
Where have their faces gone?
Numbers inscribed across
 their expression
 dumb pitiful  
 
Shiny black machines stand ,  
in the corners,  above floor  
drains and spray adapters  
 
The girl next door,  showed
 a flicker of intelligence last  
week now, she steps up  
Closer she is prodded  
 
Metal clamps grab flesh  
and bone,  stillness lasts,  
but a second.
The blade a  freefall rolling
 her head into a basket  
 
The floor opens beneath
 the death machine adding  
another to the incinerator  
below.
 
High pressure nozzles
 cleanse the guilliotine as  
John Doe is introduced to  
his future  
 
Hidden away behind steel.
doors, single cells
 is the hunger games  
 
They watch,  and observe,
 to see how long one will survive,
before eating their own flesh.
 
Life after Pandemic