Your mustard gas lungs would
fill up this room.

There is only good
on top and around you,
ointment that is not yours
that you do not appreciate
that keeps  
your tar stomach from
eating your shell.

I don't look at your teeth when you talk.

You are guilty
and you will never be better.
You can fall
to not climb back up,
comforting that
you don't have the tendons in you.

There must be
a flame somewhere
to solve this.