It's hot as a pincushion out there.
I mean a pincushion made of full
-on artificial fibers, left out of the
shade of the sun to melt, essentially and
with so many pins stuck in it, there are
curlicues of smoke arising. Hot as
a pincushion, obviously!
It's not a pun. No figurative
sense to it. It's no allegory,
sometimes you hiss and scratch
at your own eye's red blotch because
the sun is so hot you wish
it would just go blau
bang
end it all
in a little over seven
and one half minutes but
no
no, please.
Bad wish, it would
be unfair
to the animals, who
let's be honest never
thought this life was
ever going to or supposed
to be
fair.
Anywhen, it's all bound
to happen on Earth to who
so ever's left alive, by that
point
so hot
you could hear a pin drop if
you could pull it out by the tip without
getting stabbed, pricked, burnt
on the inside
of your tendermost
skin,
"bud"
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