the fiery sky
and a drowning rose.
a howling wind
that ink exposed.

an invisible heat
cures the sick heart

all of this, an unbroken fever.

we kill so calmly, so fluently
and love so laborious.

- Mike Fiction

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I am no writer and I know nothing of poetry, but I feel compelled to write lately. If my writing sucks, is mediocre or is good; I'm ignorant of this. I write to touch and be touched.