never the mercy

of water--

on fire in full.

not once left half burnt.

feral child of the sun.

burning mouth--

why do you eat me so?

as the question begs

shamelessly.

over and again--the

ritualistic leavings of ash

for pale morning to fall upon.

to stand my burning ground--

desirous of what you've reduced to

nothing.

a fine brittle black sickly sear smear.

thus i mark my forehead...

till dispassion be learnt.