My calmer, my quieter.
I seek it in rage, in lust, in sadness.
I want to gorge on the quick intensity,
the flash,
the flavor-
metallic and sweet,
resting on my tongue.

I love things like creeping ivy,
I swallow it whole.
I once broke my jaw in my sleep
because I dreamt  it would make me soft spoken.

My mother said I was born in high relief.
I have spent my life keeping others from whittling me down.

Lips that look like blood pooling and
eyes like an exit sign.
This gun between my teeth, my face begging:

"Go on... do it."

silk sheets and a sunny day breeze...

As Jim Morrison put it-
“come on baby light my fire”

Well, consider me burnt.

I am the embers of a dying flame
I am light
I am bones in a field
I am a solitary crow
I am smite

Baby, I am fading light