warragewordplayidentityself-erosionconsciousnesscontemptdefiancebetrayalrenewaltendernessdoubtimpermanencedread
fire was it before me, falling objects scare me
2026-10-03
what would it look like? being consumed by it
i say i am
eye see i carry the remnants of something broken still,
burn it
burn it
burn me
BURN ME
BURN ME
BURN ME
BORN ME
THE WAY YOU MOVE
THE LIFE YOU LIVE
the life you live
i poured my water to you without killing you
i stilled your dancing did i kill you?
distill, this shit, this still??
no.
it's different
i am
i am
i
there is no wind you're not standing still i can't understand you nor i'm not trying to but looking at you it happens i burn alongside you i was always burning i i i i i. i i i i i i i. i i i i i i i i i i. i i i i i i i i i. i i. i i i. i i i i i i i. i i i i i i. i i i i i i i i i i. i ii. i i i i i i. i i.
fire was warming for those cold until their hands got burnt
then they blamed me
then they blamed me
then they fucking blamed me
for me
for being me
for the thing that made me me
fire was exciting for those believing they could tame me
what you look at me and see
that it's a performance for you??
you wanna what, fuck me?
fuck you
fire was it before me, objects falling scare me, flames are dancing still, not so still.
how do you want to read?
poems can unravel themselves as you read, line by line, at a considered pace — or just sit there, fully visible, like normal.
change this anytime — look for “reading: …” near the top of any poem.