Fire, its orange-ness burns
indiscriminately How sweet
the demon has become sitting
at my feet.
If you stare at the young girl
eventually she turns into an old lady.
The green spot sears into the wall,
the star follows all who see it.
When you pretend to be dead long enough
you forget how to breath.
I say this: find what you've lost-
the burning, the green, the tiny
punctured sky, the place at your feet
where someone is waiting..