I didn’t think about fire
until I was 5 years old.
We once knew a family whose
house caught on fire.
My parents spared me
the details.
But I was terrified.

I wasn’t allowed to light fireworks
until I was 11.
Truth be told I didn’t want too.

I once had a friend whose brother
lit their house on fire with a snake.
The ones meant for concrete.
The ones that are “safer” for children.
He used a blow torch
on his bed.
He was 4.

That was the first day I saw fear.
Not “scary movie cockroach” kind of fear.
The kind of fear that can only be fathomed
when you are so close to death
you can feel it kissing your neck.
I was 13.
That was the year I learned how to use a lighter

I wasn’t allowed to burn candles in my room
until was I was 15.
By that time I really wanted to.
Fire meant responsibility.
Fire meant trust.

I was 16 when I smoked my first cigarette.
I thought it felt right.
Which couldn’t possibly be true
because statistics show
everyone hates their
first cigarette.

That was the first time I used fire
without permission from my parents.
And the funny thing is
it was one of my mom’s cigarettes.

That was the first day I saw adulthood.
Acting without warrant
Fire meant rebellion
Fire meant disobedience.
And ever since.

Everything’s feels right when everything is burning

Sleeping among fiery fields of summer, senses undone
colors walk among, her lucid dreaming,
red skies of watercolor suns

Trees, unfurl leaves of dreams
that rustle and awake you,
no windows, only a meadow amidst
shadows of kings, the hills
rise beneath blue mountains
sweeping to the  sea

Love.
What is it?
Is it a fancy,
Or a feeling?
Is it a thought,
Or an emotion?
Is it selfish,
Or selfless?
Is it always riciprocated,
Or is it always painful?
Is it ever sunshine,
Or is it always fog?
Is it warm,
Or is it cold?
Is it sweet,
Or is it bitter?
Is it even worthwhile in the end?

But,
What
Do
We
Have
Without
It?

Lonliness.
Hate.
Solidari­ty.
Inequality.
Spite.
War.
Terrorism.
Peacelessness.
Restlessness.
******.
Suicide.
Me­ntal hospitals.
Drugs.
Alcholhol.
Addictions.
Deleteriousness.

What do we have without love?
A b s o l u t e l y
N o t h i n g
G o o d
O r
H a p p y.

I ask you again-
What
Is
L o v e ?
What our world needs now...
More
Than
A n y t h i n g
Else.

We must love.

Quietly she creeps at night
Hoping for a another chance
Not knowing if her limbs will hold
She caters to her worst fears feast
Her heart needs not proceed to know
Rapture’s just around her lungs
Shattering her lifeless dream
Quietly she dies inside.