Sweetened Suffering (The Burning)

Another poem for my novel, combining the sensory delights of food and confection with the agony of madness. Unlikely combination, no?
Will make more sense if you consider just what finds emotional pain decadent and divine. Then again, it still won't make much sense because I wrote this in a stream of consciousness with little regard for sanity. Not that this is new.

Crumbling ash-kissed roof
Cookie crust on the gingerbread house
Vacant but not for long
Terrified, those glassy eyes
Your pain is like sugar to me

The smell of burning is no less sweet
Than if it were wafting from a bakery
Feeling the oven's heat makes me glad I'm not you
Bubbling like wax, you bake
And I taste
Let nothing go to waste

The ceiling spits blackberry jam
And candy-loving monsters with claws made of cherry stems creep
Offering false bounty on low hanging branches
Compassion is emulated in grins and promises dripping
With sweetened suffering

Syrup dries on my skin, a sick reminder
That I'm still bleeding

I bring up what you feed me, spoonful by spoonful
Retching, purging, licorice arteries in marshmallow skin

Fire slashes at all those soft places
Until all you can taste is death
And all you can feel
Is the burning

The End

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