The Fire In My Hand
The Warm Orange Glow
Heat Coursing Though My Palm
Singeing, Small Black Smears

Ash Fills My Lungs
Swirling Acid Smoke
Coughing Up Blood
Stinging My Eyes

Clear Glass Bowl
Filled With Past Ashes
Still Smoke Drifting From the Centre
Resting White Paper Slowly Burning

Poison Filled Lungs
Blistering Skin
Scent Of Death
Hovering Closer and Closer