just an oven of words and burning butterflies

circling acts of angels walking     they all carry lies

their flutter in flames     now they sound so lame     yet

i am fed all the same by the burning signs that

heave a hiroshima purl to ash me over

after all i never listen because i know the drill

nebuchadnezzar's thrill is in the heat they haul

and the speak they shake     i feed on that oven of

wooded words that turn men into worms and in the

charring spew from my tongue through chrysalis-burn

take my servility with you in these deranged games

you can call me names while i stand up straight

look into my eye     let my steadiness be a rock if you can

try taking mine from me and you shall see the wind in

the heat fans the blaze of your weakness oh fake-fiery one

seasofme231116parallaxis