Sleeping with the enemy

Sleeping with the enemy

on a bed of mallow a victim sits, with a lanterned laugh and a fork he chars wood, by a black tar river.

The stench of wet painted trees!!

Used to remove a rotting man.

Signed in cling film he weeps and plays with numbers in such delight.
Violent accelerations of heat burn the match stick men, leaving me to wretch and spit air.

Damn dogs dripping acid tears march over the ash.

And with the heat a tree spits an amber tumour and records a fly.

Before the cinder is milked, the trees, eight hundred and forty eight trees, are controlled by the tumours acting as a furious glitter and a palisade for the victim,

and a speared-rebuke for the flies.