Awake to the smell of a burning home, to a fire clear and aglow, from goldenrod burned Black. I want to fall right back to sleep, to dive back in the sheets, I want to but I can't--When anger outruns my train of thought, I'm freezing cold and caught up in the bramble of my mouth. Well why is it difficult for me to give you room to breathe,do I try to break your health because I can't breathe myself?       One Sound, your density and mine, like a rolling ball of twine soaked in gasoline for a match. Like a fuse that's tied from me to you to go up any second--and it's tighter by the hour.