Desert of sand

A tasty morsel of a days third meal.
Infested with maggots, making bad appeal.
The skin covered chair, blood flows inside.
A wooden man wearing glass rabbit hide.

All sitting in a desert of sand

The maggots chew away at what smells so good.
Like a chistmas dinner over fire wood.
But not so literally, this man made of wood.
Is he really but only flesh and blood.

All sitting in a desert of sand

He sees things for what the should be.
And not what we really see phisicly.
For his heart not empty, Not near complete.
Can he eat what it is, some maggot filled meat.

All sitting in a desert of sand

But is this food maggot infested?
Or does imagination have this man bested?
What about him makes him see this?
What about life did he possebly miss?

All sitting in a desert of sand.