Cinereal Blanche listened to the torrenting en against his bedroom window and gave a snort sending Morph fluttering from the deep dark recesses of his naval cavity.

‘Morph,’ he hissed, ‘we really must go out this evening’.

Morph ceased flitting around the chandelier and alighted onto Cinereal’s marble-like pale head and tapping busily with his tiny legs.

Since finding Morph, a blue Morpho butt...

The words spill from the keyboard

Making marks on the page

Symbols that will hurt you

But I won’t see your rage

Cleanse the memory and pain

With a white hot flame...