Consumption
Have you ever seen the fire dance?
Dance and spin, singing, looking right at you?
Tomorrow you’ll see. See the consumer.
The MASS consumer.
You can’t breathe. The flames won’t let you.
They will let your lungs explode, boil the flesh from your bones.
Nothing quite like the smell of fresh cooked meat…especially when it’s real fatty.
Calypso walks into the darkening lines.
Sierra scorched, the party-goers laugh and cry.
A thought, why are there wasps on my cake?
Perhaps the rotting meat draws them.
Maybe the maggots, the buzzing of flies, or the blood.
The bodies swim to and from in the seas of red slip.
The tides that will roll in merely a few days hence.