relief in sight.
The thoughts kept pouring through your head.
Mesmerized, the images were bled into
another tapestry of painted horror.
Entering the film, it ate them up.
Now they're left to sup on all
the tales of the misery they'd spun.
Pass another bun with worsted liver.
Never mind the others that might
shiver at the sight of bloody meat.
The projector has been set to run warp speed.
Watch the others suffer as you bleed.
There's no relief. The site's the same.
You wail in grief. The picture's made.
The other's reap the profit from
the horror that you feel.
You think that it must be surreal
but everyone's agreed that
you should suffer for
the parasites' relief...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .