• Cozy coffee shop couches make sipping cider relaxing.
    But fire floods my mouth
    as swollen fingers dance upon a hot cup.
    Scathing deliciousness burns my lips –
    my gateways to a nation
    of screaming and dying taste buds.
    Swept away in fluid pain,
    stragglers witness apocalypse.
    My drink of choice massacres.
    Cider flames consume my tongue –
    the land blisters.
    I feel Mother Earth waltzing into an apple ocean
    of death.
    Destruction rains.
    Destruction reigns.
    Next time, I’ll protect the citizens.

    Next time, I’ll let the cider cool.