there is fire in these

veins; in this ocean of

molten silver where waves

pitch overhead, as the jaw

of thunder sinks

its teeth in these

bloody conduits down in the darkest

tumbles of the deep bright

with fire; the sparks of

forges and clashes

of metal in my ears, my

head so full with the

roar bleeding out

my eyes and screams

are no match for

thunder's snapping teeth

in my pulse. the bite

that bleeds me wet and clouds

this deepness with the plumage

of fire, welding the seams in my

skin together so I cannot

tear through it though

the dull talons of my

fingertips scrape with

fervor leaving finger

prints on my skull; nothing

but the brands of



this fire,

in these veins.