Burning by Cody Davis, concept. . .

The burning in my lung paces the floor.
The burning hisses its feet
on pink tissue, and heats
The pocket up like hot air balloon.

The burning in my knuckles spit.
It gathers its mouth with thick
maroon wet and gushes it past its lips,
between my pinky and ring finger.

The burning in my knees work.
They are hot, hammering bone, grinding
to dust, and cutting ligaments. They
bang desks and hunt to drums.

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