Is my hair on fire?
It is the darkness
It is the cloud that hovers it
The dismal fog and fade
From destination
(II was once propelled by its heat)

Now a smoldering
Now a dissension in the ranks
This un-twist of plaited red
And amber
And just a glint
But fading gold

And just a glint

Enough to keep me wandering
Wondering

Bits and pieces
Shoes tossed across the room
My clothes piled in a corner
The smell of coffee scorching on the burner

Tomorrow I might rise and clean the mess
Tomorrow I might rise
Today I just go to bed