In a queue for the tube a man is on fire
flames climb up his collar
as he waits for his train.
But he stands unaware
of the smoke filled air
instead he checks his melting watch
and impatiently taps his burning foot
ignited by angst over his delayed route.
The woman by his side tries to tell him to cool down
tries to tell him he's burning
but she can't, she's drowning.
Water soaks up her suit
and seeps through her skin
so that she's coughing and spluttering
and sinking from within.
Two colleagues across the platform pay careful attention
to this storm and from it form conversation,
they judge the gentleman's irritation
and questions the woman's suffocation
but fail to notice the cause of each other's frustration.
Only the driver as his train pulls in closer,
witnesses one co-worker being blown over
whilst a rat races furtively up the other one's leg.
They said, I should pretend that she was sleeping
That dying wasn't so bad
And I should have faith,
That she would wake up
To cradle me in her arms again
But she didn't.
The tubes crawling under her skin
Only grew in numbers.
This would be her fight
Struggling by herself
Her foes outnumbering her
Slithering down her throat
They make her breathe
Gliding under her soft skin,
They are nourishing her
They are inside of her!
She looks like life has almost left her,
And now, the snakes **** out the last of all that is her
They say it isn’t so
But I am not blind
They say, it might not be too late,
But only Rigor Mortis is late
Nonetheless, he will come
Along with his hooded brother
Just because her limbs are not stiff
Does not mean she hasn’t passed *limbo
— The End —