Poem By Nic Custer
Sharing cigarettes, guzzling dark swill;
their eyes sight like hunters,
ravenous yet calm, searching
for easy prey.
Taking turns as
young leaf ages into ash.
Watching dreams burn away with click of
disposable reality. Wasted days
spent in the chase, a constant search
for the 'teenage experience'
Sprawled across the blind
of linolium table tops, amidst a
primortial forest of stale smoke.
Camoflaged in some
obscure band T-shirt
and angled helmet of hair
blending in with their surroundings.
The predators wait in search of trophies -bottles,
chemicals and cash, waiting to pounch and exploit
fat, weaker creatures.
Conversations spun like an animal call - as
philosophy bleeds into music bleeds into
Decoys, whose tone alone could attract the prey.
Beasts move closer, let down their defences
as the hunters break into confident smirks
They continue to feed scripted lines
and carnivorous egos drawing
in desperate does and young bucks
with each flick of the tongue
and gutteral burst.
The hunters, calm and in control,
throw glances back and forth
deciding on the moment to pounce.
They strike with as much percision,
fangs tearing through a desire to belong,
savagely devouring insecurity, gorging
on all but
a few tempting scraps, left to attract