Last night
I saw the fire dancing.
Its red and orange skin
sparked a spotlight
across the dark skies.
Its flame shapes
into fiery eyes,
and looked through me
with a crooked smile
as it dances a haunted,
quiet dance of death.
Echoes of crack screams,
the smoke twisted,
forming into old,
tortured souls—

Fragment memories too…

I woke up tired
this morning.
As I walk out,
the smell of smoke
still kills the air.
I watched as the
world burns—

Myself too…