Flame

And the fire burns everything. Everything.

Like acid flowing through your veins, its beautiful, and it burns.

Black ink seeps past my skin yet like sponges soaked too long, it never stops.

Glass shards on your little toes, a sandpaper massage. Perhaps a cheesegrator haircut later?

And everything radiates so glaringly, so soft yet so forceful.

Tell me, have you met the other me?