Words of a world, strange though wonderful.

Poetic Firestorm

It’s a firestorm

that rages… and whirls… within my body,

that no hand of sanity can smother.


My innards burn,

my blood boils,

the flesh upon me bubbles.


Sane, as I may have been before,

the virtues that encased this body with innocence

has long but burned away.