two red eyes stare back at me from behind a mop of black.
the holes in those jeans seem too big to be decent.
yet there they are, on a body that i believe to be my own.
my lifeblood in its left hand, its fuel in its right-
merge the left with the right and the billowing smoke
--inhaled through its nose? perhaps.
a rainbow of shades accompanies me
through this horrible fantasy
i can fly-no just fall
that's not the endless sky
a towering wall
of flames--
just fine with me. as long as the left stays lit by right,
that which is real--is it there?
nowhere in sight.

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