Los peregrinos

Peeling the plaster from under my foot
the skin tears away from juicy flesh
The Austrian kept on calling it meat
It turned my stomach then but now it makes sense

I'm beginning to look like the other grey-beards
weighing heavily on my stick and bandaged knees
We form a sorry line
overtaken by striding youths
A line that tracks like ancient veins
pulsating with the lost souls of the world

Fatigued, blistered and strained
we press on to our goal
It'll be the funniest thing ever
if there's nothing there
The pessimists will have had the last laugh