by Glen Sadley

Created on: February 25, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

prawled out on the floor
I find myself covered
In candy wrappers
And stale Chinese food
Some takeout teriyaki
Over by my left foot
A soda can guards my right
I can't help but think
As I lie there, breathing
That I must be some sacrifice
For a strange junk food god

I'm pinned down on all sides
By crazy, wild
Junk food warriors
Who will kill me from the inside
And hold my blood and organs up
To their rabid lords

My back is pressing deeper
In this house with no windows
Into the dirty green carpeting
As bark chunks scratch my
Splintered arms
And the ominous lumination
Is digital and widescreen
Lucky me to see my death
So much more clearly than before

It's not bad to see your death
I suppose I'd rather not be blindfolded.
I shrug
As the empty grease-stained cardboard box
That once held an onion pizza
Is sneaking... shuffling... a little closer
Smirking in my ear. I look peripherally
At his evil, wild grin
And notice that he's holding
One hand behind him

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