The desperate line traced a design only to space
The occupants: a motley array of the same humanity
Some bled crimson that fell forever
Some held the vital limbs in their hands causing their limp
Some depended upon the charitable kick of another to propel them forward
All ghastly sights
But the worst
The worst were the unmarred, unscarred
Who'd travelled so very far
To buy what was sold
The vender: an unsettling figure free of gender
Invisible to the customers
The haze surrounding the vender's face
Was made of suppressed memories
Each customer approached, stinking of need
And laid something valuable upon the stained table:
A dripping *****, a wisp of soul, a carefully folded memory
The vender's tip bucket contained halves of human hearts
Bleeding out regret
A face of money not concealing the truth of the transaction
Endless bodies in line to buy
Emotions
Stolen from the grateful dead