5. An Image Under Glass
Campfire, you say? Did I hear someone speak?
Picture this, traveler: this is a metaphor.
I was tossed onto a raging campfire. It burned me up. This campfire was society. It consumed me.
Now I am ashes, preserved forever in a jar. Mount Saint Helen’s via Welch’s Grape Jelly.
God will never pardon my dust.
Goddamned society wouldn’t let me be myself; now God has damned me and donates in my name to Society.