Stick after
stick goes into the fire
in the
corner, beating back shadows
light does
nothing to dispel.
Afraid to
feel, afraid to acknowledge,
silent even
as my mind seeks to demolish
a shell the
size of the world, and as deep as thought.
The world turns
to liquid obsidian; shifts and changes
beyond
recognition, but that little fire in the corner
never
wavers, never goes out.
