Avarice

Hear, the burning of the primal need.
Surrounded by the cacophony, the clamouring...
of want arising.
A thousand black screeching crows, descend,
make living flesh shrivel,
rip out the deepest, slumbering desires,
bleed the finer passions dry,
feast on the glorious unbound, smorgasbord.
Dries, wilts, turns into dust,
back to the mutilated caricature of man.
We are after all, the playthings of desire,
operated by that magical open sesame- 'I Want'