smell the smoke
permeating the air;
see the clouds of black and white
decorating the wind.

the fire is within me:
it burns steadily
but it does not destroy anything.

nothing of importance;
nothing that is not already destroyed.

Fireworks and I have a lot in common
They burn out
And fizzle
And spark
And Scream
While people watch on with amusement
Without worry
The thing about fireworks and me?
They're pretty until you get too
Close
-I've burnt the fingers of too many people

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

I've been called a pyro
From the fires that glow in my path
But they don't know that the fire
Keeps my body from freezing over
And when the tendrils of smoke find their way to my nose
I hope it winds its way into my body
To warm the ice surrounding my heart
-depression can't win

i am afraid,
afraid of fire,
oh no, not that one,
not the one that burns outside,
that feed on woods,
i am afraid of fire,
that burns within,
one that feeds on hearts,
that is brought up by hatred,
turning the red lovely hearts,
to thick black ash,
i am afraid of fire,
that burns the love,
whose flames rise from heart,
touch the mouth,
and shred us all apart,
i am afraid of fire,
i am afraid that one day,
we'll be mourning,
not over burning houses,
but burning hearts.....

How is it I can reach out and bless everyone I touch except you

You tell me I'm enough
I'm doing well
I don't believe you

I disappointed myself again
Even if you can't see it
My bar was set higher than you set one for me
You said shoot for the moon and I shot for a Pluto that others said didn't count anyway

Burn this fabric
the weave of the grandest way
we wrap our secret selves in
and write little patterns
that somehow pushes apart
from the comfort of speech
to break the truth
into lie-able bits
that everyone can approve of
because they are pretty
then you will be hollow
with the desire
to tug on the dangling strings
that always itch
the nose of conscience
to be rid of the ******
the mold you have been force in
and you will unravel when it hurts
and you will unravel when it is quiet
you will become bare
just shape
just like everything else
and when you find
peace in your own decimation
a single flower will grow
behind your lifes eye
a memory of when you took root
in the self
a lense to see your life
as you mean to live it