Here you are.
There I am.

You’ve watched me weep over unforgiving coals,
but I’m losing heat in this September weather.
Quickly, you rush to me.
No words, no wait, no space.

You hold me now, close to you.

Looking at me with ravenous eyes,
you inhale my facade,
wondering how it would feel,
to be filled with my colors.

I say nothing.

You pull me nearer,
and dress me with your ideals.
You don’t ponder my past, is it that you’ve forgotten a future?

But you cannot forget what never was.

You never question my composition, or maturation.
I, your acquisition, lie hopelessly,
waiting to be devoured.

No insurrection here.

You see me as rapidly festering flesh,
so that is what I become.

You’ve won.

A Walmart hotdog on a Wonder Bread bun.