In brittle dark
I’m shedding body on your canvas
leaving flesh in strokes of boldness;
arms are warm,
your thighs are hotter from us, burning,
as friction seals the picture
of sparks embracing ashes
The only thing more real than pain, is consequence
Wield that **** like a sawn-off imagination
Consequence is the unequivocal cure for *******;
I am wood
You are fire
You are an exuberant inferno.
There was no doubt in my mind that when I first saw you, I felt the sparks.
When you aproached me, I felt warm, and whenever we talked, I could feel the electricty -scratch that- I could feel the flames.
Then you left, but I was far from help. You set me on fire and then you were gone.
You destroy everyone you meet, leaving nothing but ash and ruin in your path.
The dangerous thing about the chemical reactions in fire is that they are self-perpetuating. The heat of the flame itself keeps the fuel at ignition temperature, so it continues to burn as long as there is oxygen and fuel around it. The flame heats any surrounding fuel which releases gasses, which make the fire spread when ignited.
Simple lights, not to bright but far from dim..
Sometimes I think my chances of being happy are slim..
The only hope I have is the within
I’m trying to find ignition, but where do I begin?
Selling souls, hearts, eyes, goals…
Something valuable I suppose…
It become complicated when I cannot concentrate on one positive thing in my life, only the things I hate…
Almost like the darkness dangles bate above my head for loneliness and I always grab it…
But its hard not to when you don’t have anything happy happening to you…
So call me depressed if you will, I don’t see any joy in my life..
Even if I do find a little piece of excitement it gets destroyed by the little implements, in decisions that intelligent people put in idiot hands…
— The End —