the hypnotist tells me to stare at the flame
i gaze at the colours, the movement, the dance -
the yellow, the red, and the blue and the green;
i stare and i stare and i enter the trance

the wings are soon singed, still they come back for more
the crackle of flesh. the flutter for air
the flash of the flame-edge, the fall to the floor;
the thud and the stillness. the final score

Jim mainlines on smack till the breath stops
Jill feeds self-loathing with chocolate rolls
John drinks each bottle till the last drop
Joan cuts her arms; at least she's in control

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