39. Symbiosis
Suppose they, the lethally
injected, the shot, the juiced,
the guillotined, the gassed,
hang around somehow. Not
the most enlightened folk
to begin with, how do
you think they react
to forced de-corpora
tion? Not kindly, right?
Most likely skittering
about the inner dark
ness like so many ven
omous fireflies light
ing ticklike on an
y available host or host
ess, to sit, to suck,
to enervate, in child
ish vengenace. No won
der the walking wak
ing dead still here,
so vengeful themselves,
sleep poorly and swear
they never dream. Night
ly visits to hell aren't
something one brags about
next day around the wa
ter cooler or confer
ence table. Were it on
ly the forcibly killed,
perhaps. The execut
ed few are not alone
out there in here. They min
gle wildly with the bill
ion victims of our greed:
the old, the weak, the hun
gry, all the angrier because
we neither see nor hear
them. Vacuum hearts do slurp
them in. Faintly glow
ing embers in the ruins
of blighted consciences light
the way. They come, they clutch,
they howl and wait their turn
at the console. To sleep?
To dream? Fat chance.
