burst into flames, step into it
be the flame
and burn the whole world down
They say you can't fight fire with fire
but when the fire is the only thing
warming a cold heart,
is it okay that I don't mind the flames?
I want you
to set your throat ablaze
and yell as loud as you can.
to be angry.
I want you
as we burn
As a human, it is instinct to be kind. However, you can get loud. Get mad.
A fire on some distant mountain under the grey sky,
the beauty of it's shape halting every passer-by.
I hope it keep me warm during a stormy night
and shines my path brighter than the moonlight.
The fire, a solitary goal for every lost soul,
fills the void of emptiness that takes a toll.
Survivors have named it "The Illusion of evasion"
and preach, it's the mind's creation to end desolation.
Am I a fool to have jumped into the common crowd
and reached out for hope sailing on a fluffy cloud.
This grand leap might bring me a merry evening
and let me enjoy my tea in Japan's pink spring.
The scenery I see in the fire has set me free
and I feel destined to become it's devotee.
your armor burnt like paper, then
my sword stuck in your hide
i didnt know how to use it, then
and you didnt need to die
you were golden
and filled with fire
exploding with life
you flickered and flared
in my washed out,
i was silver and cold
and i found myself drawn
like a moth to a flame
and i thought i would burn.
but when our paths brushed
and i lingered too close
to the sun...
you were warm, you were warm
(and you would never hurt me)
perihelion / noun
the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is closest to the sun.
this will end in catastrophe
in fire and ash and empty feelings
and yet id rather set myself aflame
than prevent armageddon
however it strikes, may it strike
may it lay me to rest
oh, but i sit idly on the stone
these tremors of the hand curse my matchsticks
Love to see you shine
like a star from afar
I see you for who you are
even when you
leave me in
was spoken poetry,
I turn a page and my hoodie sleeve hitches up.
She sees the red that circles my wrist as tattooed bracelets
And suddenly her nails are cutting too
Deep into my shoulder
And suddenly her voice is a wounded gunshot in my ears
And suddenly there are tear tracks on her cheek that sizzle on my skin between the lines of my story and suddenly
I wonder whether she cries poison or is it acid? And
Suddenly I am trapped in this room because every square inch is Her and suddenly
I’m not here because someone else is pressed against the radiator with this Monster Of A Woman crying toxic waste and breathing sparks
Gripping their shoulders too tight too-tight-don’t t o u c h them you’re leaving Bruises and suddenly
I don’t know which of these people below me are the villain because
The one with flames instead of words is
Four gaping feet away
And the one with purple-black splashed
Where feathers would sprout has gone,
Unresponsive to the way salt droplets are supposed to erode ice
Not make it thicker somaybe they’re the monster
Of the same cracking clay
‘a lonely couple makes a child out of clay, with disastrous or comical consequences’
A terracotta boy is a joke of tragic origins and suddenly
My art teacher is preaching to me that if you over-heat Clay, it will explode and
Their back is still pressed to that
And the air is still heated with residual flame from the Dragon’s blaze of words and this atmosphere is
B u r n i n g
And pottery only survives so much
Crimson before it
And suddenly And suddenly
She’s yelling, why didn’t I think of her before doing this to myself?
My back is blistering as I bite my tongue
“Mother, I thought of you every time that blade touched my skin to create wounds you once kissed away”