no is coming to save me. i stand in a burning house, watering flowers over the window. fire, in hindsight is so warm but its flame is all-consuming. my house is on fire. i am on fire. i am being burnt. why didn't i notice earlier when the flames crept to my toes or the scalding metal of the watering can leaving a blistering memory of itself into my hand? is it me? am i the cause? where did the fire even come from. i am surrounded by a body of water i cannot baptise my house in. i am in trouble. can't you see i'm in trouble? why is no one panicking? why are pedestrians simply walking by? why am i still in here? am i meant to turn to coal? am i meant to burn? what do i do. my house is on fire and i don't know what to do. anybody? the world is on fire can't you see? why can't you see? i am burning. i am in pain. please please please anyone. save me. i am begging even as i lay in this grave i dug myself into. my burning house, my home. my third degree burns, myself. me. i'm the problem. that's it right? what now. what do i do. no one is coming to save me.
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Excerpts Vol.1
RandomAn assortment of creative literature I've found myself writing in my confined space of 4 walls and a desk, all tucked away in this little nook. From poems to dramatics to entire chapters as though they were ripped out of a novel. Here are excerpts...
