gargoyles

gone are those guides
through darker climes
we reach for crinkly
bags instead
potato chips, fast
food burgers
for cheap beer
and bottles of salsa
with notes written
hastily, "set me free
let me out from this
freaking reality show"

if only we'd eaten
the partially-rotted fruit
the meat, underdone
but tender
the clouds, grey
and looming
they were the only
sustenance in sight

the only monsters to be honest
to tell us
we have taken this all
a bit too far