Sad Wicked Sad

With options like these 
who needs hands.
I will look instead
to my feet.

To be cruel
bowls the gruel
offering concentrate
when a nibble of old apple
would do.

I prefer to be sickened
by the sweet
rather than bloodied
by live meat.

The walk under sadness
may cloud my shroud
deeper than this darkness can bare.

On the other side of this hole
there is more hole.

All that being dead,
give me tragedy
and a few more breaths.