By Shelley M. Latreille
I view your glimmer under the streetlights.
It shimmers brightly and burns my retinas.
You evaporate before my mind can process your existence.
You were never thought of nor forgotten.
My thoughts jumble and scatter outwards.
Candles burn heatedly and drip molten lava onto my skin.
My skin hardens and I pull it off,
twisting it into knotted carnage that transforms into sensible rope.
I use it to tether my essence to this plane of deranged existence.
I will not fail nor fall.
I will remain here tending to my mind.
You cannot conjure thoughts about what you never knew.
You simply herd them towards another time.