Riddles's Journal

Pushing my fingers into the bowl

Kneading the thick dough

The pulsing ingredients emanate negativity

Angry throes painfully squash the diminutive plasticine

The yellow moulds rise, a miniature vacuum leaving nothing

Nothing, but empty space

The miniature loaf, a morsel of misery

Moulded in moments, the vessel of delivery

Empty and free, the beatings relinquish suffering

Moving the form about the bowl, the see through arena

Of pain and suffering

Left to soothe for moments in the heat

Raising it’s head, carefully – watchful

Its insides inflate, feeling free

But fear flattens the fool, lifted away

Torture proceeds, dropped painfully

Onto the side, the furnace opens

Before caged, fallen into fire

Heat transpires to scorch, too hot to blister

But burning, consciousness dissolves in the blaze

One loaf: misery entombed