Cotton Candy Clouds My Vision

My head falls to the ground,
I lie on my soft bed
of dry stones red
with blood. Defeat drips
from the brow of
my broken face


I try to focus as the air
squeezed out of my lungs
laughs, leaving me
nothing more than bones and skin,
a puppet without strings.


The dust sweeps over my body
like a tattered blanket
trying to shield my frigid
body from a cold Ohio winter.
I surrender.


The sun offers me
illusions of water to quench
my thirst, the model
who satiates her
hunger with a stalk of celery
cooked to perfection.


Defeated,
breathless,
cold and thirsty,
everyone dies
hungry for more.