Wednesday 20 August 2014

Sand Man



A hint of singed hair taints the air.

Lingering within my nostrils,
Clinging by the remaining hairs.
A monumental nasal flavour.
A searing flash was all I could remember.
One moment the sun being down over my hunched back,
Another, the sun teasing me awake.
A shrill ringing, yet somewhat peaceful.

Blisters formed over my burns.
My skin resembled pork crackling,
Largely charred, crispy and cracked,
The taste of home.

Erratic Behaviour

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