Confronted with the dead wind of the day

My eyes roll back in my head

Scan the insides, rivulets of forgotten memories

In my vision, constantly, a white hot glare

Plastered over experience

A flame stoked by beauty and fueled by dragons

Oh this molten skin that I wear,

Dry, crusted grass --- suit of armor

It fizzles into wind when confronted with the white hot flame

The flame pirouettes my periphery

Commanding onslaughts,

Converging inwards, cornea and consciousness

Goes for the throat, recesses of my mind, my heart

Flushes out the demons

With my white flame, this subject of my soul

This illiterate lifeblood

Singe the world apart piece by piece

Ashes drifting in the wind

They collect in tiny twisters

that dance around my periphery

Beasts of dust that rise against a blizzard

Claws unsheathed and fangs bared

In a shudder, collapse.

I am a man alone, in a world forlorn.