Return Piece

I am he who lurks in the shadowy corner

of a burning house,

swimming through peripheral hallucination.

The water of my mind keeps the fire off my skin.

I am he who falls slowly through the kitchen,

looking for berries, for sweet chocolate, for sustenance,

for a companion, for sanity, for a light to illuminate the hazy dark.

Beyond these thick walls it is night,

and the street is still.

Below me, lights shine red like ancient stars,

the space beneath the earth smells like fermentation,

and piss, and the whole damn human race.