…as my room burned, I could go on. Edit 1 for serge.

[billy]

there's a good poem in there, some good images, but it reads as though either you're smashed or i am
and edit would help but i've no idea of any suggestions.

i have read your last response and that's the poem that isn't showing here, if it were it would be a winner i'm sure.

Wired to tailgates, flashed in cheers
of honeyed circumstance,
we paddle
in our skinned canoes. Fire! Fire! a suggestion would be [we paddle in skinned canoes] on one line and Fire! Fire! on it's own line with white line, separated with a line space top and bottom of it.
Greased by creosote burning black
like a waxed and oiled up scrub-land pharaoh,
you were liquidised. huh
I left.

Tracking rotors beat and cut the cute puffed airs
and graces; kings could curtsy in the grain of wood
you polished.
Buffered thoughts shine bare. Fire! Fire!
Counterweighted bones with blades
still stuck in cleft and crevice where you hid from me.
You were pulverised.
I laughed.

Come and strip this bandage from the crispened flakes crisped or crispy
of what the faith once was; close to shanks of shame held
tightly closed whilst
Berenice was left to Poe instead. Fire! Fire!
Shout this out to your familiars, "Lift the breasts of nippled arms
and count out one, two, three!"
You were traumatised.
I loved.

Where now?
You lose.
You lose again.

Tectak
2013