first world stumbles on its warmth
swaddled to suffocation
counting credit scores like lovers
roofing every building
so that from above
you discern ownership

first world devours itself
having consumed the rest
skin to ribs eye to gods
hotsauce on the chin swagger
dripping from the elbows
a dipping bowl for everything

first world calls itself
first world not knowing
multitudes worlds inhaled exhaled
collapsed like beehives
swarming to blot the sky
only to settle elsewhere

first world paints its nails
electric blue sparkle power
hides the fungal colony growing
a revolution underfoot the stench
fills your nostrils
with old factory lies

first world raises its fist
yearns for fabled past
of Tom Sawyer whitewashing
a three hundred foot wall
a better time of straw hats
the slow movement of slaves

first world recedes by degrees
lapping at the shore of your comfort
splash fun at first but soon you drown
or bob head first first world fetal
into an ocean that devours worlds
with a ton of hotsauce