i've been engulfed in flames for hours
from boiling coffee on my tongue
each moment, struggling to become
immune to changes in the weather

i wouldn't call it an accident
but i just now fell down the stairs
a couple of steps, enough to bloody a chair
when i attempt to return to a sitting position

and my poetry (do i still insist on calling it that?)
has turned like the eyes of famine victims at lunch
to the topics of sitting, typing, and such
giving the one remaining reader a damn good reason to depart

don't look back, reader
i won't take it to heart