Dawn—the rising of the once-set sun
struck madness in my seedy heart, and called
forth from inside of me new growths.
The days are evil. To be consumed
by moist, unfeeling fists, or set to burn
in hell-fire fitted with a rack for me?
Or, better yet, to be one purged
momentarily from the memory of those
who throw (can throw) our bodies into flame—
separated, here to rot
forsaken in the sun.