that fire we started is like your mind,
and your mind is mad.
you are the fallen, the manic,
the departed sanity of a child
lost to his own dreams of death.
you are the fire starter;
barefoot in rubble by the churning seas,
toes reddened, face reddened,
eyes reflecting depravity.
you see me atop the writing desk,
hair aglow with golden sun,
and awoken, wide with life.
nothing but the slow, silent glow;
screaming, fleeing, chaos raging.
we sit with chopin in the dewing glow of morning,
sun rising, light rising,
but the darkness staying with us,
and the darkness stays with them.
turn, look, weep;
a thousand ****** victories calmly glow,
a dozen glorious motions of grey;
the sky is grey, the dawn is grey,
our flames of the electric dawn are grey,
grey, covered with our ash of madness.