It begins,
the hot breeze
lazily carting a hot day
cracking stones.
The icy ripples on
pearled pebbles,
flowing to and so forth;
my, drug.
A piece of fire,
it slips a little later.
We run, drop drop
in a pond, the sun without end.
Rays shine and shiver,
burning smoothly; no alloying.
Neurons alloy, liquid lightning.
Skin shimmering copper.
Fingers and bones turn
a liquid gold.
Overhwelming cinn-a-mon sense, charred by fire;
every breath feels like the last.
How relaxing is the rain to the parched earth?
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