vênari - A Call to Hunt

*****
bloody me, the blood has flowed one way
leaving no scars, just empty spaces
Have lost time in every memory
every frame leading to another prophecy
the color of my hair sang in praise
of one season too long,too wrong
and the color will splash like a fresh wound
the pipes will pop gushing air and a chill
down the spine making everything around it hollow
and smish-smash of desires and random thoughts
will smoke the air you breathe to suffocate
and pinch the light that glowed
and I could have fuЖed you helplessly
with no sense and taste,but you weren't worth the fuЖ
and you went on to fuЖ a nice guy in me
bloody me, the blood has just run out of red
and I bow down to the Red Sun
above.
*****

We are all born as hunters. We hunt for survival. survival of our dreams. survival of our desires.
survival of love. survival of the loved ones.
But little do we do justice to the hunt as hunters.
Putting the bait for the fish, and letting the fish back into the waters
doesn't make us a hunter, does it?
A hunter hunts for a reason. Only one reason. The reason can be known, can be unknown.
But the knowledge is not of the hunter, its art or its consequences.
But knowledge of the hunt.
I was a hunter. I hunted out my career and now I am figuring out what to do with it
I hunted out love and now I am wondering what I did to it.
I hunted out my body and now I am findings ways of using it
I hunted out my mind and now I am findings ways of losing it
Yes I was a hunter. But I hunted the wrong ones.

Now I am ready to go out again
not as a hunter
to hunt
but as the hunted
after all, the real hunt is
when one hunter hunts another.