12 sunsets stripped.

Voices passing under the table.

Twenty four legs plus four.

Bones and wood.

The fire is brewing.

Ashes in a heap.

Under the table.

A volcanic conversation,a heated debate.

The debris of strategic confetti smoldering,hot of the paraded press.

The king and queen in royal attire.

Sitting above the madness,dropping crumbs to their world below.

Open minds catching juicy morsels of fabricated ideas that are whispered in forked tongues.

Spooned and fed tasting the crimson infernal truth.