The demon sleeps in me, it has the shape of my fear.
It burns with crimson inferno, burns and calls, tries, and tries, whispers – leap into me, swim in me, immerse in the depths of me, become me. Fire will clean you – of everything, of your body and thoughts, of your pain and suffering.
It will leave the burning witch, calling on the gods who are also burning, blazing with even higher flame. Chronos laughs and ashes the field that I irrigated all spring.