Posted: April 6, 2013 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,

I really thought she was it

The flavor of her fabric

The scent of her skin

But she was like everything else

My touch turned to ash


When I was a kid

I was sure I would die

Consumed by my conflagration

My affliction

This disease

I was infested

Like a dog with fleas

Burn-holes everywhere

I’d even burn myself

In order to prepare


I thought it would stop with the drugs


But these holes just keep appearing


Top-layers of my skin disappearing


Even my brain is a mass of scar tissue


I know there is a pyromaniac out there

That God made just for me

One that won’t flee

When the house catches fire

  1. Haaaa…….I’ve burned many things in life, but if you don’t you won’t renew like the snake skin in the cycle of this life seeking new visions and hopefully wisdom. I keep a set of matches in my purse 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s