the ingrown hairs of compost

I don't get it. Why don't people absolutely freak that they are meat, animals on the prowl, who don't know where they came from, don't know where they are going? Hardly anyone questions. Just goes on in blind stupor. Pulled by genitals. Pushed by pride. Believing certain stories. Or not thinking about it at all. Doesn't anyone think this is a little weird -- this being a human? Seems to me that most consciousnesses bend back on themselves like ingrown hairs. I guess everyone has it all figured out but me. Most everyone I meet is wearing a big Do Not Disturb sign. Dis-turb: to throw into dis-order, into confusion ; to discompose. Dis-compose: to keep from being compost. Yep, that's it. Folk are working hard at being compost and do not wish to be discomposed. Very well then. But I still don't get it.