There is enough, there is more than enough, actually there is plenty of it - indeed there is too much. We shift our limbs as if they were itching. The small stretch between us and it is is the greatest source of pain we have ever known. The cursed earth between us and it is soon to be swallowed up by our heels. We have longed for too long, and now it is there, a mount of plenty sitting on the horizon. The moans start rising from the group, we start eyeing each other. Each swollen calf and thigh is now weighed and analysed, and some start licking their lips, as they realize that they belong in the front of the group. A small moment of breathless silence. Then we start running towards it; mouths foaming and feet breaking against the lumpy ground. Our faces contract in agony, but somehow we keep going. Skin tears open and nails are torn off. We don't stop. The mere thought of what awaits us jolts our muscles and joints and keeps us going.
We arrive; pushing and kicking each other.
A cheek is torn off and the fleshy lump flails in between the conqueror’s teeth. The blood from the gash in his opponents face slathers his body and mixes with his sweat making him a pink, reddish spectacle amidst the sea of brown and white flesh.
We dive in, head first, feet first, whatever is the nearest it doesn't matter. Many of the misfortunates end up at the bottom of the meaty pile. They do not scream in agony though, they raise their voices in rejoice for being so near, so in touch with the plenty, even when the weight reaches such a tremendous amount, that their innards are forced outwards, do they scream in pleasure. The ones on top are crawling over the masses of bodies, moving and still, and continue further into the living landscape.
The beginning of the pileup has started to take color. A mixture of beige and red has stained the naked bodies as they slip and slide among each other, while piece of man and woman gets squished between their toes.
Some of those who have found a spot of their own defend it relentlessly, aggressively attacking anyone, who dares near their share; piling cadavers around their newly founded camp.
Others smear themselves with the lot of it and let the surrounding mouths lick it off from every surface of their bodies, returning the favor later on, making them easily recognizable, as the colors of beige and red are scarce on their huge canvases, with the pale skin standing out in striking contrast. Otherwise it is only the shine from grinding teeth that can be distinguished in the homogeneous crowd. And they smile. Their grins seem unnatural and painfully forced; stretching the skin to the absolute limit; not blinking, as they would then miss out on looking at it.
We are all on all fours, all screaming, all smiling.
We are being filled with it, surrounded by it, and consumed by it, as we ourselves consume it
