Brimming Over…

It's a world of the fittest. Only the strong survive. Sharp claws dig into the skin,
showing bare its flesh, bones and organs. Fresh red blood oozes, gushing its way
out of the carcass. The tiger has ripped apart this doe into pieces, its flesh strewn
over all around. Here, a horn, there, some skin, far off some other part,
mutilated.


There's not a part, left whole. The head lays under , with its dead eyes popping
out, staring above, unafraid. The starlight still brightens their glare, with the sky
looming above, like a monster. 



The eyeballs still black and brown, want to see..more…above, around. Dense
canopies cover the marshy land.. if there is any, at all. The swamp is deep. The skies
stay dark. Everyday the sun comes only to be threatened by the thorny thicket. 



Nothing breathes. It only rots, for days, months, years. ..and the slime grows
thicker, denser, stinking worse, every day. Air, is a privilege. It wafts, but only at
heights. Finding openings to reach down is impossible. The wild vast swamp hasn't
a place, for air, to breathe. 



Weird shrill noises haunt the ground. They say, it was a burial, ages back.. And
souls sigh and laugh and live even today..
And even before this, was a deer whose eyes pop out, even today.