a day's tale
will tell a day
of the fire
you have learned
to combust
your innermost puzzles.
the gasoline
is on your clothes
and against
your surface.
they told you so
every wistful evening
when you would
brew your tea
and light the incense.
the room would smell
of lemon
and reek of
your abstinence.
mysteries of your introspection
were set alight.
you were always
descending from
your nightmares
and running from
your demons.
no wonder the flames
devoured all your
vitality.