Fahrenheit

I see the wonder of a fairytale
in the shivering lines of my button-up
marked with coffee drips that
jackets the stains of last night’s
red wine

Twinkle
twinkle
ocean
sky
shadow-
soaked
in passersby

I believe in angels
these figures blocking view
the way
the sun
envelops heir aura –
an outline that pretends
to be them
and I believe

Christianity?
No, a new god was
created today
in the two-hundred images
I scaled across my eyes
after escaping that horrible
mind-wondering
dream place

Run
and run
and pacing.
Slow
Slow down,
no.
Don’t slow.
The way a painting,
or a book, used to take
years of creations scares me

Is that a novel, you
hold? Burn it.
I’m taking
too much notice
– it’s not burning
itself and that
feels wrong.
Very

Wrong

What is happening?
Have I stopped
to think?
No, don’t
let me
stop
I want to burn
like the books –
a flash in the pan
momentary life
in this world, then onto
a sleep without dreams
without thought

I believe in angels
I want the fairytale

I want the fairytale

I want the fairytale