combustion.

this is what gasoline feels like
a match slowly descending towards
a feeling to live and die for
and wait and watch excitedly
as that moment comes to me
here is something you've never seen
a new me to always be.

the devil speaks.

tipped low the absinthe
a sound to lie alone in wait
to scare and caress those unwitting charms
a blank disposition
a callous heart
to shore clean the wool
and make new a start
to bleed like the pig
to be what you are
an unfinished grave
an unnamed song
and just keep on pushing
til you find a home.

for little understood keepsakes engulf

these spoons
are for scooping out eyes
that don't want to see
how things break
how people break.

just get the machete
instead.

just remove the shoulders
from the head.

just don't forgive yourself.