Would the last voice in here

Please turn out the lights

Pull the shutters down, drown out

All sound, thought and contemplation

Take hold of source of ignition,

Carefully planned conflagration

Burning down the tissue walls

Scorched enamel, cinder skull

Bones for tinder

Skin powder clogging the lungs

Of those present.

Humans remain when all else is

Flame, combustible brains

Organs melted down

All internal sounds

Erode to silence

Possibly an onlooker

Starts to cry

Finally, as in dreams

We get to fly.



© Copyright David Marriott  all rights reserved­.