I would like to burn this down. I would like to see it melt in yellow and observe a cloud of blackness rise. Watch it rise as it is wrath himself. Watch it rise. Crows will flee the scene as if to remind me how long it's been since I have seen a dove. Melt in yellow as I do. Exhaustion and mother of tribulation. Wound by wound. I torture myself. Wound by wound, I will perservere. Whiteness, present yourself, as I know you are the sky and anchor of my being. What we've known is like cigarettes. Formaldehyde fingers.
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