Sun rays flick off the tip of my nose,
float on words grumbled yesterday
over a cold bowl of canned soup

Guilty rain creeps through the car window cracks
and soaks striped socks
under suede boots from the thrift store
down the street to the left of the cemetery
where outcasts cry for keys to
open dungeons,
but no one will answer because dragons
breathe fire in the earth


Hot feet, but no burning charcoal;
just the ice of my tongue on the bottom
of my hot feet
Rays of moon strip the devil from my thoughts,
though harmless, they melt fire and burn ice