Landfills of feverish outcasts, fit only for friends of the fallen.
The tallest is the ladder, it seems only right.
Children climb first, and arrange towards the morning warmth.
“Run my friends,” as the tall man turns back, “they’ve returned.”
Layered mechanical horizons, metal sheets ejected into the crevice, mother’s voice
under the steel placements, “God help us.”
a second interjecting, “At least now I can get some sleep.”
The tall man’s torso faces the rising sun, his legs splay across an orphan’s lifeless frame.
The hole began to spin violently.
The torso disintegrates.
The spinning ceases.
A boy and a girl stand over where they once resided.
Gigantic magnets lift for the reveal.
A stew of flesh, bones, and entrails float carelessly.
A man approaches.
Clean shaven, wearing dark. A proper suit, not a single mark.
He stares, his hand strengthening the brain in his chin,
His eyes rose to the children, “dispose of this.”
The young ones close their eyes,
and destroy the evidence,
embrace the forgetting.