Braden's Poetry

Starved for one week
Awakened early by surprise
Cleaned, powdered, shaven head to toe
Put back in the cell after breakfast
From the window beyond the bars:
A view of the stake itself
The actual stake, erect like Satan's erection
Surrounding it was a collection of junk and old furniture
Anything that would burn brought by the thrillseakers

The stake never made a martyr out of anyone
Yet hundreds gather outside of the tiny cell
The stake never symbolized a true execution
Yet millions are waiting for you to join them in hell

Heaven hell god Satan - none of it means much
The ropes are tied tight around the wrists and ankles
The fire slithers and spreads without conscious reason
It devours and moves deeper into the core
It begins to use up all available oxygen
Breathing becomes impossible, without breath,
screams are hard to form
Searing flesh overtakes the senses
Death don't come easy - pain is mental, physical, emotional, and sexual

January 15, 1998

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