Byrne

I've burnt myself, I think Sparks flew, landed on My breast, a fingertip, The little bony left wrist I've allowed too much wine into the house.

As she walked, the light seemed strange, curling around the buildings and trees and cars like a gas. She could see the colour in the air around her, it was yellowish, sickening. Her panicked breathing returned as she realised that she did not know where she was.