• Don’t be a Road Hog

    Don’t be a road hog.
    It’s no way to live.

    You won’t live, in fact,
    and the death’s quite grotesque.

    It takes you unawares
    and soon you are trapped.
    Bound and packed,
    there’s no going back.

    After what feels an eternity,
    there is a great sudden quake.
    An epicenter from
    a sizzling clash.

    Brown blood seeps from your sides,
    reaching out in boiling waves
    on a pond of wraiths
    scratching, seething,
    bathing processed flesh.
    The last breath escapes,
    a wicked fragrance wafting within.

    You’re in another world
    where the floor grills your skin.
    You fry where you lay,
    scalding and spicy
    while a beet red man,
    with face and body
    bulged in disproportion,
    prepares his juicy meal.

    Who is to blame?
    It no longer matters,
    Because now you’re a sausage
    in a bun on a kitchen counter.

    So to all other pigs,
    I cry out this plea.
    Make the right choice.
    It’s not worth the risk.
    Don’t cross the road.
    The farm’s a better place to be.