Sometimes, I look back...

Sometimes, I look back

And think.

About the blood red

Poison.

About the swimming

Head,

And the drowning

Whole of me.

Sometimes, I look back,

And see.

The light reflecting and refracting

From underneath

The water.

Waves lolling around above my head

And it is obvious,

I am under.

Sometimes, I look back

And hear.

Like my head is in

A cloud,

And my ears are all

Waterlogged.

Ringing, and spinning, and...

The words have all slowed

To a crawl.

Quivering voice,

Cracking from the inside

Out.

Sometimes, I look back

And feel

The warm rush

Climbing up the back

Of my neck,

Flushing my face,

Red and hot, the heat fades up

Shading my eyes with

An optical illusion,

A cloudy film that covers my eyes

In dreamland.

Sometimes I look back,

And taste

The same old bittersweet

Lingering on the back of my tongue,

Mixing with the salty

Warm and metallic taste

Of my own blood.

Sometimes, I look back,

And smell

The sweet smoke

Rising in the distance,

Sweet, sweet poppy flower

Burning gentle against the shiny metal,

The smoke rises

From the bittersweet brown liquid

Swirling

And spinning

Before the fire inevitably

Spreads

Killing all that grows

Nearby.

Sometimes, I look back

With fond eyes

And reminiscent tears...

Burning once more

When I smell that smoke

Burning like dead flesh,

A million wasted lives,

Past in its wake.

Mothers and fathers,

Sisters and brothers...

Friends.

All lost in the fucking fire.

Too many dead.

And even more wasted.

I look back,

On the burned wood,

Curled from the heat,

And buckling into ashes...

I am lucky I got out,

Smoke pouring from the building,

Nearly engulfing me, too

I think, sometimes...

I am still damaged from smoke inhalation.

I kiss the ground.

I kiss my baby.

And I kiss my fucking life.

Because...

I made it out of the fire.

Unfortunately,

We are not all so lucky.