Tripping

Tripping out.
Tripping balls.
Moving back,
the moving walls.
The flames absent,
the ones not there
are bursting further
into the air.
The fire blows
and consumes
all that no
longer blooms
and goes out
in my mouth
while I try
to scream and shout.
The fire disappears
and goes away
in time for me
to go astray
but not before
it's gone without care,
the fire that
was never there.