Camel Wides

She gets the cherry fiery, piping red hot
This is the only out-the only escape this poor, lost, pitiful soul has got
It's​ fleeting only temporary-yes this she knows
It's sick and twisted and shameful the blisters bubbled up crispy and brown, in neat little rows
In her head the static and screaming is deafening turned up way above ten
This is remote her mute button that turns it down if only for a moment before the band strikes up again