In my dreams, I travel through time and space,
to the land where I used to dwell
in the house of my father,
trapped again in its dark and twisting halls.
There is no other place where running will take me
when he decides to set me ablaze
and form a new child from the ashes,
one who will call him sir and remember
to love him more with every bruise.
Upon waking, I check my skin
to make sure that it still exists,
but there's no way to measure
how much this dream has taken
from the places inside that I can't see.
There are wells of gasoline inside my soul
convinced that the spark is what I deserve.