Heart beat-beat-beats quick
Like a drumbeat-beat-beat—or tick
Of the clock, sent speedily
From my chest cavity to my amygdala.

All neurons alive,
Just like a ******* fire,
I haven’t felt this
In a long, long time.

I thought all the good ones
Had deserted this place.

But here is a good one,
You.

A slowly suffocating fire
Turning fuel to charcoal
No bright flames of light and warmth
Until stoked by disruption
it sputters to life
A final intense burn
that falls into ashes

Sweet the girl and tender her age,
She's too young for the fire's rage.
But, alas, the law still stands,
And punishment for her crime demands.

Little Oshichi, that greengrocer girl,
Her hands, restrain; and hair, unfurl.
She stands upright against the stake,
Weeping as she regrets her mistake.

She had fallen in love with a page,
While a fire had roared and raged.
As her house was burnt away,
Love, within her heart, gave way.

Entranced, enraptured, and captured with him,
Oshichi went forth on a fanciful whim.
Believing that it would bring them together,
She struck a flint and started a fire.

A clanging tocsin pierced the night,
"Me-gumi, hark! There's a fire to fight!"
A throng of ***** steeplejack boys
Rush to the scene with swaggering poise.

Oshichi now gazed in horror, aghast,
Watching as the fire spread fast–
Her dream of meeting her youthful lover
Set ablaze with burning desire.

Arrested, tried, and sentenced to suffer,
The judge, kind sir, tried his best to save her.
"Are you not 15?" he asked, worriedly.
"I'm 16, my lord," she answered meekly.

Bewildered and anxious, he asked yet again,
"Surely you're 15, young one, dear saint?"
She bowed her head and shed a tear.
"No... I'm 16," she answered with fear.

Cursing his fate, the judge had no choice.
He gave his sentence with a downcast voice:
"Yaoya Oshichi–what girl so tender–
Shall be burnt an arson offender."

Bound and burnt for want of love,
Oshichi lifts her gaze above.
Weeping as her smoke ascends,
She cries to heaven, its mercy lend.

At last, Oshichi succumbs to the fire,
Consumed by passion borne of desire.
Sweet the girl and bitter the flame,
As her lover cries out her name.

heart turned as heavy as metal
sinking down, it's an uncanny battle
stomach twisting, can you feel it contort?
someone once said that life's a contest of sorts

I've created stories patented for myself
yet they still belong to somebody else
I've found love in nooks and crannies
only for it to be ripped away potently

with confidence, I'll make my move
only to be checkmated with crude
I'll pack my belongings in a metal crater
my head's been submerged underwater

chlorine stains the tips of my hair
I close my eyes and she's not even there
the crowd thinks that they might know her
scream the chorus, play the player

when will you see that the glass's been shattered?
she's viewing herself through minuscule scatters
do you not see that her head's a mess?
she's losing the strive, won't be the best

history is repeating
can you feel the wind?
cold as ice
while she's paper-thin

they drag me out of the pool
unwillingly, I go
the men are worried
the women don't show

the poison burns like fuel and fire
life's a train, it's advancing forward
I imagine myself walking through compartments
everyone's now in a different department

when you light a match
watch the flame
burn it black
wisps of smoke
reach your fingers
it's warm
it's exciting
then you put it out
it's still warm
part of it
permanently black
vulnerable
so you let it
crumble

i'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere




Once I lit a match. I wanted to watch the fire. I watched the fire burn the wood and turn it to ash. It was turning black. I saw wisps of smoke curling between my fingers, as the flames got nearer. I could feel the heat. Before I got burnt, I blew out the fire. And the flame was gone, but that black wood, that ash, still remained.
That’s when I had a thought. Maybe that’s what happens when you decide to be bad. When you choose to be evil instead of good. When you give up doing good for doing bad.
Maybe when you make that choice, a fire ignites in you. A fire so bright, you can’t see anything else. But it’s like bliss. Blinding bliss. And you let that fire burn when you continue to be bad. It makes you want to do worse. Because it feels right. It feels like you can finally be seen. But that fire, that flame, it’s burning you, to your core. It turns everything black.
Eventually, you extinguish the fire. You don’t want it anymore. But you don’t know that it might be too late. Your heart, your soul, your mind. It’s all gone. It’s black. It’s ash. It’s a part of you now, a part you can’t get rid of. It’s still there; it won’t just disappear.

i’ll once believe we have something, some kind of ember
some kind of fire that doesn’t scare itself
some kind of blaze that never escapes
that keeps growing and forming and whistles all day.
there’s some kind of weather
that makes me colder
and you, warmer.
some kind of change blowing through the summer air
some kind of new wind unheard of from here.
there’s some kind of vigor i wish i had
that you do  
and it’s so easy to get swept up in the current of you.
no matter where i swim, the tide carries me down the wet sullen stream.
i’m back in the heart of things,
something is grabbing my pant leg;
it can’t be shaken.  
i float down the river,
weaving our love into baskets to send off to the water.
i’ll once believe we have something
when you pull my shaking body out from the water,
wrap me in a towel
and place me by the fire.

near some kind of ember
floating till its death.