Once upon a time, I had only secrets. Then
this happened

And eventually there was only emptiness
Because nothing was sacred
Not even myself
Especially not myself

Or maybe
I just threw everything sacred onto the fire

Me lancé

In the dawn-damp morning, there is damp-dark ash
It clings to that which is metamorphic
To that which is born of fire
It clings and nourishes and stains

Shifting shape shadows glow orange
My chest aches until it would burst
Until I cry dust and clear my lungs
My fingers seek the sun