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May 2015
The stone is cold against my cheek
bring the glow closer
I can feel the heat
hear the spark
smell the fluid
see the flame

Slowly the rock glows through my skin
and burns
the sharp touch signals
a rising nether
where thoughts float free
and men don’t cry
and I don’t care

The fire burns low
and the stone grows cool
I am left

Was I flying?
I never left the couch.
Written by
Steven Fried
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