[i used to spend hours at the campfire,
turning and roasting single marshmallows
until they swelled to golden apples]
if we are what we eat,
then maybe we are what we shit, too
(the breath leaving these lungs isn't mine, or yours)
will you be happy to drag me under,
so that we may find another unfortunate paragon of virtue
and seduce them
to evil?
[there was a time
when the smallest creature could not escape
the vigil
of my thirst for salvation]
"what we were, we can be again..."
say it softly,
so only you can hear it...
...because we are these ideals
no longer
Author notes
If this is not in accordance with the prompt, please feel free to disqualify.
(I hate burned marshmallows, so I plump up my marshmallows until they slide off the poker. Occasionally they land in the fire...)
A contest entry
- Benjamin's Better Than You. by Asa.Rose..
700 points, ended January 1, 4 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I adore this. Crude and enigmatic. I love the title too, it compliments it beautifully.
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