And spit it out.

Like a *** of wet paper
Fired straight from a straw

I want to inhale it. Taste it. Swallow it.

Make it take shape in my chest; Douse the fires raging in the bowels of my being as they threaten to burn through, scalding my soft belly like embered iron.

Let me protect you.

I will eat up every last bit of sorrow you hold and endlessly fight for your worth.

The symbol of fire reaches out to me
lighting every tree in its path
it finds me near the earth’s soil
it circles a ring of flames around my finger
telling me that I have been given a gift
with a smile of ego across its face
it returns back where it once came from
so now where I stand in the corner of time
whenever I am at arms length of a person
and reach my hand out to them
I scorch myself
leaving a permanent burn mark
that I can’t get rid off
leaving me disgusted of my own capability
of such a devastating curse
and so I try to find a solution
with a bundle of sticks from the forest
I dip my fingertips into them
letting the flames do the introduction
the sparks I had released formed smoke
with every breath I take I inhaled it
leaving gray clouds populating my vision
after this experiment I have done
I began to do it daily
throughout this process I found peace
until one day
I inspired the rapture of a wildfire
as it consumes every tree, bush, and ****
I didn’t feel it circling me
and so as the aftermath came
with smoke and ashes populating the burned down forest
where I laid
I felt satisfied but not fulfilled

I dance around a fire, burning too hot.
Fire I foolishly threw gasoline on.
If I take a wrong step,
misplace my footing,
I’ll surely be burned.

The warmth, a stark contrast to the cold night,
But the heat has become sweltering.
My hair has began to singe,
my feet have blistered.

Every crackle threatens an explosion,
At any moment it’ll combust,
but still I continue to dance.

Sulfur yellow a watery burn
Created in an alchemist's urn.
Water feeds fire as both evolve--
The formula of hates resolve.

You waver rights to be treated fair
Like Sampson selling locks of hair
Or selling age to a 95 year old--
Sheep follow only to die in
their fold.

Fiery seas begin as a rift
Water being the only gift.
But nothing, nothing is ever
free
once transmuted into this sea.

But logs do drift and beaches
claim
All that gave this sea its name.

The boy I met on the river bank
Told me a truth
Unasked, unruth -

How do you smile
without a fake?
As if,
To cast a fire
And burn on a lake.

O, Candle!
Warm me so
Tinge the palm with soot
Feel the flame
Embrace ye whole
Flee not – to flirting brook.

Make my gelid
Heart whistle
Like kettle overrun
Stir not
With the Finger
You may end up losing some.

Be careful
Not to under
Mine or worse – estimate
The Joy
In Suffering
Is one most intimate.

Let the pain
Consume ye
And be met with greater bliss
For there’s no greater
Pleasure than
To burn as warm as this.