Self portrait as a silhouette.

 

I forget my thumb in the fire

But I do not forget the thrill.

Every abstract’ biggest dream is

To own life, so we let the bowl be  filled

With sugar and cinnamon

A grey fizz, like a thunderstorm

Wraths a boys heart,  but boys

Don’t die, Boys don’t girl,

Boys are everything but tender,

But soft, but prayers axed into

The ground to never leave.

I forget my thumb in the fire,

But I do not forget the thrill,

I do not forget the sun

That rose from Bermuda

And slowly sways into my body

Like a pilgrim in his pursuit

For halo validation.