The heat behind the eyes grows turning head to furnace.
The senses now mute as flame consumes all, the music of the world exchanged for the snapping and crackling of flame, vibrant visuals from the spectrum of color, now 3 shades of red.
Training for hell.
Touch has left as the flame eats.
Glutinous thing, never satisfied, poorly mannered it eats away with its mouth open.
The flame pops with joy as a fine morsel of what once was me, hits the spot.
Fire bursts out every orifice as the one burning becomes the fuel.
The hate for flame and self are now one, there is no more distinction, as all points of reference burned.
Burning intensifies as anger swells.
The screams and crackling are one, one shade of red, all you see is red.
No more crackling.
Deafening silence.
Embers.
Denkender 