"pyromaniac" poems
Dostoyevsky said, “your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
I've felt rage seething in my chest for as long as I can remember. I've felt as his talons ripped open my sternum, digging for a place to call home. this rage has nestled deep into my ribcage, devouring my will to survive while carelessly residing within my nightmares.
I've surrendered to this forsaken depression fury has vacated deep in the confines of my irises - despite witnessing myself across grey-tinted glasses; a smoldering storm rippling miasma throughout my body, manipulating my hands into a devout pyromaniac; suffocating every chance to heal.
I've known nothing but bitterness congesting my heart. My dreams were burdened dreadfully with the stench of wrath. it mutilated my arms; burrowing into capillaries, and asphyxiating my habit to vanish.
This incessant sin I've endured has brought me to my knees, existing only to ***** out my ability to be a mortal in an unforgiving universe. I am not a cosmic metaphor, the iron residing underneath my skin has become impenetrable.
I am adorned with stillness while this betrayal has bloomed into a supernova. the things in which I lack have ignited into an endlessly violent explosion -
Atomizing my bones, swirling stardust into a forlorn emptiness.
A world that was held by the unfaltering resistance I persevered against, it has ravaged my memories, my moribund existence trembled; shivering from the growl of the recoil - the remnants of creation kissed abysmal lips within the faraway distance of a boundless abyss, raining tears for the last time as the destruction leaves a life void of meaning.
The last words ever heard in this universe spoke softly as if to lull the existential bereft into a long hiatus -
"This was all for nothing, just as destitute as this vacant nothingness, human life is ill-fated to be star-crossed and powerless."
Sep 25, 2024
Sep 25, 2024 at 6:51 PM UTC
Anger is a fire that consumes the body and mind
It sits and waits, fed by grudges left behind
Coursing through your veins like a poison of the soul
Dismissing all rationality and sense of self-control
Like a blanket woven by corruption and fear
It blinds what we see and alters what we hear
Until all is contorted, withered and bleak
Because what has taken over has made you weak
Until, like a disease, it spreads from victim to victim
A thing so dark it is certainly quite fearsome
The spawn of destruction, sadness and terror
Conjured from darkness of the human error
We must forgive to forget and repent
And retrieve ourselves that, from anger, is bent
And from the fire, the flames lick at the roof of your mouth
And threatens to burn so you let it spill out
A pyromaniac of your own hatred and loathing
That all but leaves you heaving and choking
And so from ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Forget bitter anger, for it is a thing we cannot trust
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
I had a blue phase
But it wasn’t a sad phase
More of a ‘you’ phase
Because you are so blue
To your very core
But a happy overly friendly and helpful blue
With its sorrows hidden away in its rich depth
And purple undertones
After meeting you
And being with you
It’s impossible not to associate you with blue
Considering your slightly insane obsession with it
But it’s also funny
Since blue is the ocean, the river, the deep cool lake
Or the overly chlorinated public pool
And you can’t swim a stroke
Oh irony…
You are irony
The nice guy that wouldn’t ever hurt me
But who made me hurt myself the most
Trying to protect
The one I was already so close to
A relationship shouldn’t have been much of a stretch
But the one I ended up farthest from
The one who wrote melodies in scores
Just for me
But the reason I stopped playing
Music reminds me too much of you
You are music
The deep melodic kind that touches the soul
The way you touched my heart
Gently and sweet
So moving and tear jerking
In you sad purple undertones
You are rain
That slips through my fingertips
Leaving only the vague impression of ever being there at all
Only a slight bit of azure beneath my nails
But you are flames across my heart
Scarring deeper than you’ll ever know
Warmer than I’ve been in the longest time
You are the sun
Warming everything about you
And shedding bright light on all my flaws
You are wind
Whispering your way in through the cracks in my soul
But intangible as ever
Still you push through
Leaving blue in your wake
On my sunglasses
That block out the sun and your brilliance
Because it hurts so much when I’m so dull
My candles
That feed my pyromaniac addiction to flames
I’m just always addicted to that which can bring me pain
My clothes
The ones I bought just to please you
And to get your attention of course
Even my diary
Where all my laments over you reside
Blue
Like you
I had a blue phase
And I can’t seem to get rid of it
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC
In between strangers and friends,
And of lines to be crossed and erased,
You'd pull me out without a second thought
And every time you do, you'd whisper
'I feel cold.' Quiet and hot like liquid gold
I'd touch your arm and you gently shiver
I set you afire each time
You'd hold me closer and smile
As you try to lick a final sizzle to my finger
You're a pyromaniac and I'm an arsonist
I wonder how you see me
And I wonder if you know how I see you
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
I am the furnace master
the pyromaniac
the keeper of the warm
inviting flame
I am the fire, you are my fuel
The world is my fuel
be not careless, lest the fire consume your mind
The flames rule all things
They make meaning from nothing
They are the mover, the pusher, the guider of all
Try to control it, and it finds a way around you
If it cannot move around you, it moves through you
If not through you, then it finds a new place to rage
The flame burns all, though few can see
The flame is everywhere, no one is safe
It has surely been in your heart, your soul
You felt it, And you knew it was there
The flame called you to life, and showed you the path, and you knew
But knowing how, and doing, are completely different
All have felt the flame, but not all know of it
Subtlety is the game, straight-forward strength, subtle motion
Surely all have felt the lovers passion, and the flame of life
Surely you have felt the flame of hatred, or of hunger
The fire of anger, of joy, of sorrow
Even those who, like me, spend their lives thinking they rule the flame,
Are only puppets, actually serving it.
Apr 10, 2012
Apr 10, 2012 at 6:41 AM UTC
I will not be another rose
picked for my beauty
Then left to die.
No i will be a spectacular wildflower,
The kind you would never bring to a wedding,
Difficult to find,
impossible to forget.
Or i will set myself on fire,
And burn,
And pray to become ash,
The kind that float
like fresh snow
So that i can join the soil,
And other wildflowers can
grow through me.
The ones no one will pick
Or put in a vase.
So that you could not display them at my funeral
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 9:14 PM UTC
Lucky/not 13 is a black cat
a broken mirror
a shoe on a table
Lucky/not 13 is a new old school
a shiny, new flute
a blue bike
Lucky/not 13 is a lost dog and
an invisible Italian
Lucky/not 13 is a babysitting job and
a tiny pyromaniac
Lucky/not 13 is a shoe on a table
a broken mirror
a black cat
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 1:06 PM UTC
What happened,
to all the missed moments we had put in a box,
tossed away.
Dewey Decimaled
out like library index cards,
I always thought we'd be able find them again.
I never thought that before we'd go searching,
that building would be burned down by you.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Something that I try to fight
You fight it too, in dark or light
Together we can win, across the distance and time
My Nightmare that fights me, sometimes he makes me blind
Do not fall to the voices in your mind
That make you cut, leave a ****** sign
Time heals but leaves a scar
When it's over, do not forget your past
Rant, rave, spit or talk
You and I, we walk the walk
The path we dread is a path we share
The demons in the dark, the knife, the snare
Watch my step and I'll watch yours
Together we can unlock closed doors
Find a reason not to, rather than one to do so
It's working for me, why not you, y'know?
I hope you read this, but do not ignore
For me to write this was quite the chore
To have such pained effort fall when it's so near
Would be a reason to cut, ear to ear
I think you're beautiful, regardless of what you believe
For our eyes and mind can trick and deceive
When nobody trusts, compliments or gives hope,
Know that I do, though my responses are slow
Sleep well, my <3
At least, try to rest
Restlessness is eagerness
But eventually, is Death
And I do not wish to lose someone like you
An Insomniac and Pyromaniac message each other... one's mind does burn, the other wishes to burn everything in mind...
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 6:52 AM UTC
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
he should have panicked
but everything was just brighter
he lived from day to day
yearning to add to the pyre
he knew it to be easy
with a touch it would spread wildfire
but he was no devil
he could control his desire
so he lived in agony
even when his need grew dire
he'd never intrude unwelcome
almost like a vampire
but he was far too kind and reticent
to trap a victim whom he would squire
he scared them all away
with apathy and satire
he was too familiar with the anguish
his fire would inspire
he wanted to protect the beautiful souls
from the harm of its ire
he let his fire burn him to the ground
leaving nothing to quench the inquire
he watched as his fire ashed
his wings and invisibly divine attire
he let it consume him
alone, entire
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
he was resolutely resilient
he drove himself to the pyre
but in his final breath
he heard no lyre
he was a fool
that no one could admire
there once was a pyromaniac
he lit himself on fire
i would have held his hand
together nothing could conquer us, not the world, not a fire
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
You’re an arsonist, baby.
You’re an arsonist, dabbling
in the arts of fire.
And love is your fuel.
My heart was inflamed.
You left me to smolder
But I stoke those flames
because I’m a pyromaniac.
Your flames licked at my flesh.
And I kinda liked it.
The heat, the burning,
I thrive off of it.
You’re an arsonist, baby,
and that’s okay.
Because I like the fire.
You lit me up, ignited
my thirst, my hunger,
my passion
I inhale your smoke.
Taking you in.
The smoke left me in a haze.
My vision, my thoughts,
all left unclear.
Your fire left nothing untouched.
You scorched my heart.
Consumed me. Refined me.
You sought to finish me off,
burning for you from within.
I tried to hide behind others.
Beneath their skin.
Not even grafts can hide
the damage done.
You left behind your mark,
on me.
Branded me with your ashes still visible.
Dose me in your precious love.
Open the flame. Light me
Up. I’m a dancing tongue of fire of your creation.
Watch me burn for you.
Watch me perish because of you.
Watch me love you with
Everything I am.
You’re an arsonist, baby.
And I’m a pyromaniac.
What’s the number for 911?
I need a firefighter.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 12:41 PM UTC
I thought you were the fire that could warm my frozen heart
I took care of you
And tended to you
To keep you going as long as you could
I thought you would keep me warm
and take care of me too
Instead I ended up getting burnt
Charring my fingers on your carelessness
Singing my hair on your obliviousness
And In A Way, my own
Because anyone knows that when you play with fire
You're asking
to get burnt
-a former pyromaniac
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 8:24 PM UTC
You set fire to my soul
When I thought I was lost
Brightened my whole world
Warmed every square inch
Of my ice block heart
You thawed me inside out
Put a light in my eyes
The sparkle I thought I lost
Then burned the whole thing
Threw it in the flames
They destroyed me
I went up in flames
Charring my once thawed heart
Burning it to a crisp
Unsalvageable
You lit a match and
Dropped it in the gasoline
Igniting everything
Like the pyromaniac you are
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 4:40 PM UTC
Let me be the first to warn you:
I am wildfire and catastrophic destruction,
I am consuming fever and searing passion,
I am possessed by infectious radiation, a contagion
for all things surreptitious and sacred.
I will vacuum the oxygen from your gasping lungs,
blister your lips,
and plunge you deep into my inferno.
I will gallop as chopping thunder across your oceans,
etch lightning streaks zigzagging behind your eyelids,
and illuminate veiled dimensions of your incandescent spectrum.
You will know me,
in flares sparking your night sky
into snapshots of opalescence and shadow.
You will know me,
in relentless flames licking your woodlands
skeletal and hollow and barren.
You will know me,
in remnants of cinders, ashen palms,
and smoky ribbons evaporating through your skin.
I am celestial pyromaniac:
daughter
of Hephaestus and Artemis,
incubated
in the womb of a supernova,
birthed
in the creation of Andromeda,
purified
by internal cycles of eruption,
hurled
through the cosmos by shooting stars,
magnetized
to earth by gravity and destiny, carried to you by entropy and choice.
I am volcanic and heaving
beneath the crust of the planet.
I am ultraviolet hallucination, I am firework destruction, I am spontaneous combustion, I am electric incineration, I am smoldering embrace, I am all things cataclysm and rebirth, interlaced.
And when I pierce molten and ecstatic and untamed
through your reality, you will know
what it means to drown dancing in flames.
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
the stars imploding in your eyes made me want to become an astronaut and the fire blazing in your heart made me a pyromaniac; it wasn’t just the light it embedded in your veins it was the way every expression burst out of you
your love of the sea made me want to become a boat driver so i could float through your seabed of flowers and plant a tree there that would eventually grow to surpass the sea every time you thought of me
your willingness to escape made me want to become a pilot, i’d fly you away from all the troubles burning holes in your skull and hope that the scar tissue that sealed them together again was because my fingertips had roamed your body and taught you how to be peaceful with an existence you barely understand
your breath shook my lungs like an earthquake and if there were traces of you in cigarettes i’d smoke them all
your body is a souvenir of the mountains you’ve climbed and the forests you’ve camped in and the coffee you drink at 7am every morning and your heart is a souvenir to remind you how not to be a robot although sometimes it feels easier that way and your mind is a souvenir of them both and i treasure the thoughts that never managed to surface on your lips because i know you tried your hardest and i know “i love you too” would’ve been one of them
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
I was the pyro that never got burned.
The euphoria brought by you was inevitable.
One gaze is all it took to ignite this passion,
A false dream fueled the fire.
The flirtatious dancing flames had me mesmerized.
I was drawn.
There was no escaping.
The flames had risen.
Dangerous,
No lo longer alluring but it was too late.
I was caught like a fly is to a spider’s web.
I was roasting in the pit.
My passion had me burning in the flames.
There was no escaping them.
I played with fire and I got burned.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 6:08 AM UTC
The orchestral and harmonic vocals of monks echo down spiralled and cast-iron staircases to the dungeons of our carefully crafted castle chambers of submission.
It is all in the warmth of our carotid pulse.
Oh delusional salesman of presumed superior status, it is important to acknowledge those spasmodic and physiological celebratory responses which resound like cross-cultural and cosmological anthems within the questionable corridors of fitness to stand trial.
I can feel your quivering pulse.
However, we must recognise that the required reports are not dissimilar to a beautifully carved chicken which is subject to the paradoxically crude and culinary eloquence and deviance of the gleeful pyromaniac.
The geometry of midnight has clearly outlined her symmetrical shapes, which require seasoning and the skillful administration of being quartered.
Chef, can I ask you: is designation superior to our authentic anthropological status?
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
I was covered in gasoline
And with the ghost of a smirk playing on on your lips,
You dropped a lit match and set me aflame.
Thick black smoke swallowed me whole
And I felt your fingers dancing across my skin,
searing a path across my body.
I can't see the difference between pain and ecstasy,
(maybe there isn't one at all)
But I can't think of a more violent ecstasy
Or a more pleasurable pain than you--
the beginning to my end.
All that's left to you now is cinder, ash,
And a whispered "I think I love you..."
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Pyromaniac,
I burn for you when we touch
I am curious
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 3:32 PM UTC
You will feel my fire
See the raging blaze
As it burns your eyes
But still
Knowingly
Willingly
You'll walk into the flames
Consumed
You must be a fool
To think
Any man could survive me
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 11:14 AM UTC
i live in a shell of bones
voodoo in a beer can
my mind a twisting smudge
that mar's the night
and that thing cries
in screaming syllables
withering and being born
bornless
a pyromaniac in flames
running from its cold charred center
all faces and bodies
an endless geometry
of cast shape shifting shadows
open doors closing
every lid a coffin
dropping dead
from my own evil eye
false alarms
and deep ruts
i am meat and spirit from the abyss
a blood shot eye ball floating in mud
in search of shelter
while fighting off
The stings of
red earth worms
by furious blinking
a destiny
with out a future
free will
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 7:36 AM UTC
Yes-
You walked into this
knowing that
you would get burned.
But still you touched
with already blistered,
and charcoaled hands
because
once
is never enough
for children to truly comprehend
the lessons
their mothers taught
them
Don’t play with fire sweetheart
for your heart will turn into
ash
once
her
ambers
go out.
You choked on the heat
of your desires
after they went up in flames,
setting your insides ablaze
and of course
with help always arriving
a second too late-
who could
save you
from the firestorm
that had just
erupted
in the shallows
of
your mind?
So don’t play with fire sweetheart,
because you will get burned.
The smoke will
char your lungs,
leaving
you panicked
for release.
And lust will do that-
It will
set alight
everything it touches
destroying
anything unwanted,
that even dares
to stand in its way.
Arson is a crime.
By: Lulwama Kuto Mulalu
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 2:41 PM UTC
I startet this fire intentionally
Maybe I'll put it out eventually
And bury my urge between ashes and glowing ember
Maybe then I'll take the blame
For now I'll take pleasure in the burning and the pain
And let the flames flicker across my naked body
Ignited by your warm breath on my neck
The heat from your fingers tingling on my skin
The glowing reflections in your passionate eyes
The sting of lust running down my spine
The itch from your kisses melting on my tongue
The flushing from a fever caused by your touch
The burning desire that's taking me over
And over again
It will hurt me in the end
But I'll let it burn until then
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
The edge of my eternity begins with you.
My love, I lulled you with lyricless lullabies, sheltered you in a sheet of stars, yet, in your sleep you still speak her name. "Inferno," was it? You always were a pyromaniac.
I furnished you flames to tame winter's teeth, and yet, you still use them to burn me. How can you pour that boiling blackness in my bloodstream and dare to call it love?
You leave coal-like clouds swirling stormily in my lungs and the taste of smoke to scorch my tongue. Still, my throat is raw and red from coughing up ash and blood, still you call this torture love, and, I believed you.
Tell me, do my mulberry scars entice you? Those marks mingling with my skin of moss and morning glory; you put those there. You made a hell of my skin to rid me of the blue-green, beryl-shaded "blemishes" that provide the very breath you waste, only to build a factory to pump more poison into my lungs. I can taste the tar on my tongue.
My love, as you tear at my being with your careless claws you seem to forget the fact that you need me, but to me, you are meaningless.
Where I was once a sanctuary of life and beauty, you have made me a battlefield- a cemetery of living corpses craving to leave behind bombs and bloodshed, to cure their heart wrenching homesickness and to fall asleep in their lover's arms.
Why must their precious rubies mingle with the ashes of detonation? Why do you **** each other when I have provided you with my harmonic grounds as a home? Why do you raise your children to believe that dying is an art and death is an escape?
My love, I cannot understand why your knees are pained and purple from praying to the angels when you dance so divinely with the demons that you have created. You deserve each other.
Don't you see that you are burning me alive? Can't you smell my cooking flesh or see the charcoal clouds smothering the sky? How can your seeing eyes be so blind?
My love, my death is yours, and if I shall burn you shall blaze beside my broiling bones.
May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 12:49 PM UTC
sometimes
i forget who i am
not my name or location
just what sets me apart
due to desire
to be more like someone else
i just have to remember
i am an escapist
i am a vagrant
i am a writer
i am a pyromaniac
i am an inhabitant of purgatory
i am half living
i am an addict
i am a statistic
i am a radio wave surfer
i am a bridge burner
i am a coffee stain
i am two young lungs
i am the girl across the hallway
in an old jean jacket
with paint on her cheek
trying not to cry
and i hope someone remembers
because i'm trying to forget
that i exist
to make it unreal
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 2:06 AM UTC