there are ashes in my mouth

the residue of flaming words

that scorch the silk savannah of my mind

they drain the blood from my skin

as if my wrists have been opened

bleeding onto the pages before me

a great ******* of half-formed consciousness

these words, these flaming, fiery words

erupt in rapid torrents

of strange improbable happenings

their clatter grows louder, they yell

now I understand the nature of my curse

it  is to look for something I have forgotten

a beautiful yet tragic gentleness

like the femininity of my hands

that calls to me from across

the infinite blackness of space

there are ashes in my mouth