The lionesses of the preserve descended upon the buffalo hours ago. And still, exhausted and in a semi-coma, its heart beats despite their teeth sunk into its warm, living, flesh.

They’ve torn off bits of glistening meat, blood soaks the ground where the buffalo lay, it’s low groan still fills the air. The lions eat casually not bothering to expend the energy needed to bite into it’s neck and sever it arteries or to break it’s windpipe.

There are pieces of it everywhere now, but still it lives. There are vultures descending and still it lives. The lions gnaw slowly at it, tearing off crimson and white marbled flesh, exposing bits of sinew. And still it lives!

It’s a game preserve, you see. There are no hyenas lurking about. No leopard to sneak and take the prey. No wild dogs who swarm like locusts upon a kill. There are no cape buffalo to harass the pride. And no competing pride to make war with. In short, there is no competition. Having removed the threat of would-be scavengers from their sanctuary, the lionesses have no reason to kill the animal quickly, but take their time slowly slicing it apart.

The protected garden of Eden, free from enemies,

Turns you into a sloth…a animal that preys upon what it wants,

Killing what it wants at a leisurely pace,

The night descends upon all of god’s creatures,

But those in the garden do not witness quiescent bliss.

And though you’d like to think of it as peaceful.

Nothing can be heard in the night but a long, low, protracted groan.

…saying… eat me, eat me, eat me, quickly eat me and kill me.

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[Edited 4/11/11 4:32am]

I like this. It reminds me of a biblical nomenclature. I don't know what nomenclature means, but I know how it feels.

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Fauxie said:

I like this. It reminds me of a biblical nomenclature. I don't know what nomenclature means, but I know how it feels.

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That shit is on point.