Sink

Thick with heat,

Choke as you breathe.

Stench so fowl,

This air makes you heave.

Burning masses,

Like black molasses,

Stuck in the pit of our de masses**,

Cling to the rope as it ravage your palm,

On your throne of thorns you stand embalmed.

Frozen in your flesh you watch as they run,

Unable to move as they have their fun.

Author's Note

**de masses, a desperate filler I used, supposed to mean people, I am aware of the pronunciation
I just write whatever comes to mind. Please let me know what you think