Disclaimer,
et al: Screw it. My 2nd fic.
Semaphore
“And it’s killing me.”
Thought shatters. 'It is colossal in its pretentiousness.' There should be an
organ, iconic instrument of destruction. Melancholy German
music, decomposing composers.
Everything is burning, my bed is burning, par ici,
Mademoiselle, I’m burning, the sky is on fire, the sky
is surrounding me with fire. Canon on the right, on the left, echoes booming,
hollow, there is a dragon burning my bed, come to burn burn
burn my house down. Flame and smoke shoot from the
dragon’s mouth, golden flame, lavender smoke, the smoke billows between our
legs, it blinds me, and still the dragon roars, burning me, burning me, burning
the world. She burns, and I’m on fire, she speaks in riddles, my lavender gold
dragon, you’re an animal, I can’t move, I can’t escape the burn.
Angry
Smell of smoke in my brain, how many days does a candle burn? Was it nine, or
is that a tiger? Killing the dragon, I’m killing the dragon, kiss him squeeze
him call him George, the dragon’s riddle is killing
the dragon. I once kept a princess in a tower, but the dragon came for us, the
dragon took her away, took me away, solve the riddle or burn, my tower is made
of straw.
Always fire, smoke and flame, the dragon steals everything, she steals the
fire, I am wrapped in cold smoke, I want the fire
back. I burn, I burn, come back, my tower is my castle is my home is me, come
back dragon, burn me but good.
I know the answer, I’ve heard this one before, man man
man, happy meals on legs, crawling, walking,
fire-in-the-hole man, call him George, the dragon can never love the George.
Dragons love smoke and fire and gold, the dragon loves the burn, I burn. I know
this one.
Nine days, nine days left to burn, nine times nine is forty-nine. 'She resents
my being filled with anything but herself.' Nine days to ride the dragon, to
rise, to burn, to become the fire.
Watch me burn, baby.
“I’m sorry, William.”