Witch Flesh

Flames hunger for witch flesh,
feed on fear’s sacrifice,
thrown shadows tell us, already we are ghosts,
dark elementals,
Hell bound,
the blessing of fire is ours.

Hypocritical blaze stoked by hysteria,
A kindling of ignorance, fanned by the mob
virtue signalling to the nth degree

‘See how we suffer in our condemnation’,
shout voices ever louder,
    at a safe distance of course
although some hold out their hands to the heat
    to take the chill off
    accept a glass of something, and ‘oh
    I could do with a bite to eat,
the night air does give one an appetite.’

We listen to our neighbours
enjoying the show
in which we star, albeit briefly,
corpse candles, eco-friendly
organically sourced.

And what does it matter
Except that we burn?