That dragon's not my adversary,
That dragon's my most loyal friend.

Always there to catch me,
(Like the bottom of a well)

I descend,
and it's leathered wings curl
around my mind.

In that place
   I am fine.

   I am
      at ease.

(But it's not me.)

When allowed,
that spooling dragon wraps
into my consciousness.
It feels like bliss.

We sail through every fantasy
delighted by each novelty,
subtle and obscure,
permissive and demure.
That dragon purrs.

The sound,
a grating staccato,
withering heartbeat,
with a red face of glory.

I vanquish and devour,
but as I conquer I'm consumed.

It's too late to pull away.

The talons found their purchase.
The flames their tinder.
Ignition.


And once the ash has cleared
With all laid bare to see...

That dragon's not my friend.
It's not my enemy.

(It's me.)