Blue Sand Plagues the landscape.
Two pyramids stand tall,
Ruling over this land.
Palm trees fill the void of

s p a c e.

One lone camel roams the blue sand,
front and center in this portrait of life.

Pull the lid off this scenery and you will find,

twenty

little

soldiers.

It was easy to separate the soldiers from one another.

Seven in front.
                         Six in the middle.
                                                        S­even in back.

They stand with their heads held high, unmoving,
They do not fight back.

Set their legs on fire,
watch them burn.
Drag them to your lips, experience their burning flesh.
Rich and mellow,
the most aromatic soldiers I ever pressed to my lips.

Domestic.

A distinctively smooth finish I have never tasted before.
Reaching the head is always a let down.
Heads taste the worst.
I have never enjoyed them.
I drop the remnants to the Earth beneath me.
Grabbing another soldier,
searching for the same thrill.