smoke rolls through the sky like an endless cloud of regret. sun's out, can't you see that. the smokes tastes like dust, tastes like every single mistake you've ever made.

the world's burning but the flames don't hurt. you skate your fingers over the red hot fire, like a child with a death wish. the world's burning but you were made fireproof. the world's burning and you can't find your way home.

where is your lord now? the ash that coats your skin feels like an expensive scrub. if you rub it in you'll be new. you've always been reborn through ash. you are from earth. that's where your lord is.

God is dust, through the air. "father," you call, and the wind whispers in response "let it burn". the end of the world in on your doorstep, and God wants you to invite it in.

gasoline coats asphalt everywhere, and the world still burns. looking back at your life, it was always fragile. looking back at life you always thought that it would shatter into millions.

can you feel your hand in his? "anchor, anchor, anchor" he calls. his skin too is coated in ash, he too has to live with a world gone up in flames. "anchor, anchor, anchor." it burns. lights up. lights on. it burns.

maybe once this is over we can talk, maybe once we sit in the debris of the universe the words will fall more easily. millenias of life lost in minutes.

please, tell me that this was right.