Frissons Of Fire (Surrealist Poem) Comments

I.
The wood-resin is salivating in the flames: amber-fire before metamorphoses to embers—before it burns to ashes. Flames are insatiably embracing the logs with fire-tongues of perishing smoke: the fumes of consummation, the mastication of flames in the alien teeth of heat, tickling and teasing with heat. The wood is in a melting pleasure of self-sacrifice, in which the nails in the wood are the pillars of endurance, the pawns on the chessboard, the sheep in the herd, and the people in society in frissons of avarice, in a paradoxical self-glorification, guided by the invisible hands of madness. The flames are burning bright, spewing sparks of disgust in the process of digestive catharsis of the subliminally inoculated Matrix.

II.
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