i took the ideas
out of my skull
and i placed them on the mantle
above the fireplace
I watched as they twitched
in the orange flame

i am the weary product of destruction
you were just another friend of mine
i once knew what to do with myself
but i soon forgot

we sat on the couch
and observed my half-born creations
you spoke empty wisdoms
into my hollow mind
all the while pretending
that there was something
to admire

before long the distance became
a pocketful of torn ticket stubs
a collection of subway maps
a string of missed phone calls
i doused the living room in gasoline
and dropped a match on the floor

through the window i watched
as the ideas on the mantle
turned to orange flame