slithering, sulking, looking back one last time,
cloak of hoarse cries, safe warmth outside
vertical colourless coffin. telepathic smile,
bile seeping from withered black petunias
peeling off the hearts with each of his
final pulses.
the red warmth grows bright with every pulse,
and gives lightly the sensation of yawning.
a scatter of of clarity, then in reverse.
and then the pulse stops, leaving only
terrible anger.
a puncturing of the sky,
knifing, hacking at the skies, leaving
a hot, swelling midday in shreds,
a veil of unhealthy green skin and molten
yellow seeping through the wounds,
raining upon once optimistic children,
now burning, charring black and their
screams suggest they'll never accept
it, they'll lie to the end.
a morbidly obese woman cradles charred
remains of her child, rocking her back and
forth and finding time to lick her fingers
and lips, wondering what's on the shopping
channel.
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