One of my own. The universe insists, each hour: "I am here. Now, deal with it." 

Hunter

Ripped entrails waft blood-scented steam

From snow bank punched by scarlet well

Ice crystals trail intestine, pale

By chips of bone, and bits of horn

Out of a severed head, the grey tongue lolls

Glazed marble eyes gape wide as now the stag

Sees clear -- at last -- his own dark mystery

Mind is matter.

Dim voices, human, far depart

As truck roars into steel unlife

So in a place inside yourself

So cruel it terrified yourself

You hid this picture, came to stare

In lurid-fixed trance aware

At steam which billowed into air

Too icy cold for flies

Sneaked out of Sanity, you did

Sneaked out when Self was busy

Sneaked out and by this mind waste hid

And stared till you were dizzy