Endless Hunger
Beneath the hush of gold-plated banquet halls,
where gluttony is worshipped and nobody cares what price is paid
Tables groan with offerings—meat slick with grease,
bread split open and buttered by the starving and the overfed
Fruit rotting at the edge of silver platters,
pulp bursting in colors so rich the eyes recoil
Lips stained with juice and shame, hands tearing at flesh,
teeth grinding down bones with a savage joy.Every dish is a promise
whispered in a fever-dream, a sacrament served in porcelain and sweat
Where hunger is holy, gluttony praised,
and every mouthful devours another regret.
The guests shiver under crystal chandeliers,
grinning like wolves at a blood-slicked moon
Passing the salt with trembling fingers,
pretending each taste will heal some wound.But the emptiness gnaws relentless,
swallowing every joy before it can bloom—No pleasure lingers,
no sweetness stays; the tongue forgets as soon as it is consumed.Beneath the din,
a growling drumbeat—the body’s verdict, the mind’s silent plea
A bottomless ache carved into bone,
a void that mocks the fantasy of ever being free.
The glutton’s gospel is written in stains on napkins,
in crumbs tucked beneath fingernails bitten raw
Every new course a prayer for mercy,
every swallow a test of what the flesh can endure
or ignore.They pile their plates higher,
mountains of longing built from the debris of yesterday’s more
Stomachs stretched thin, spirits collapsing,
chasing the ghost of satisfaction across a sticky floor.They eat to forget,
to fill the holes left by love and loss and every desperate mistake
But fullness dissolves into hunger again, as certain as dawn and just as opaque.
A hunger that can’t be named, that outlasts the meal,
that turns plenty into pain—A famine in the soul, a wound that feasts on itself,
returning to gnaw again and again.No matter how rich the sauce,
how sweet the dessert, how skilled the hand that serves
The ache remains, a ritual of emptiness,
a hunger that grows with every curve.Each mouthful is a confession,
every burp a half-remembered prayer
The guests chew with abandon,
refusing to care—until even abundance tastes like despair.
There is no finish, no crescendo,
only a slow collapse as the feast gives way to rot
The table stripped, the guests unmoored,
the longing as sharp as the hunger is hot.Lips chapped from wine,
bellies raw from excess, minds dulled by sugar and fat
Still the appetite claws, begging for more—a gluttonous god that won’t be outlasted
or outwitted or outmatched.They search for satisfaction in salted skin,
in sweet cream, in the promise of another bite
But the world slips through their fingers,
smoke and sand dissolving into the night.
Let the wolf come, let the snake uncoil,
let each throat burn with insatiable need
This hunger is the only law, the only true creed.No amount of food, no banquet,
no feast
Can silence the growl or tame the beast.They swallow the earth, the air, the joy,
and the blame—But the hollowness howls on, relentless and untamed.
When dawn arrives, weak and unkind, the plates are empty, the floors sticky,
the air thick with the stink of defeat
The guests wander off—bloated, hollow,
numb—still clutching at the hunger
that will never admit defeat.Every feast a funeral
for another part of the self left unsatisfied
Every meal a ritual, a haunted communion with all the things they tried
and failed to hide.And in the echo of empty halls,
in the shadow of a table stripped bare
Hunger whispers, eternal, reminding them it was always there.
Nothing fills, nothing lasts, nothing grants peace—Only the ache of desire,
the gnawing beast.The world consumed, still the craving survives
Endless, relentless, as long as you’re alive.So the feast continues,
beneath skin and bone
Endless hunger—always alone.