Still waters trembled; in flight; in fire / Stark clashes, morphs; torn flames of spire / Ashes, dust, falling debris / Burning wretch; a wish: calm sea. Intro my mind, a static strewn heap. It fell from a mind warping plight, a gut churning flight. I've no sense to make of this mimicry, this turbulence, this infested pandemonium. It is consumed with angst, chagrin - a dash of longing. And so perhaps, being of such horrid nature, it is all in my head. I sigh.
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