The air is thick
Clammy like cold soup
A thin layer
Of fat, rises to the surface
Oil-ridden, asphyxiatingly aromatic
Like the sweet metallic crimson
Coarsing through my veins
Double-headed questions
Stand at the forefront
Spewing fire
Like the dragons of old
But chivalry is dead
And knighthood bestowed
As a ceremonial honor
To those with enough class
And cooth to kneel
Before aging monarchs
A dying breed
That refuse to vacate
The premises
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