the sun spits fire on me does it the glare is hard to bear the heat is hard to bear the magnetizing of the threads of my heart that stretch tear like the ligaments and burn the solar waves that engulf my being burning it to black ashes for the wound burns like no other burn would someone i call my own set afire my wound then so be it for i disown in disgust in shame in raw being in unbroken lines in dark spaces that scream and leap into unconsciousness.

for i don't exist.

no i don't.