Post-Extinction Banquet

You know the star on my wrist?
Gutted.
 
The infinity symbol on the back of my neck?
Chewed.
 
The quill on my forearm?
Snapped and shattered.
 
The guy with a flower sprouting from his head?
Gouged out,
Eyeball hanging.
 
A lone petal floats into a pond of blood.
Bloop bloop.
 
The bowl of noodles – the one above my elbow?
Slurped.
Empty.
 
The dot-work on my hip?
A giant’s footprint smeared the spots together.
 
Every panel of ink on my body?
Teeth marks.
 
Every tattoo I have?
Yeah.
 
Every single tattoo.
Has been eaten.
 
Ever since I got that one?
You know?
Of
the T-Rex?