20 August 2012
Book of matches,
Jerry-can of petrol, full,
Old sheets,
Yellowed papers,
Their aged news, forgotten,
Smeared print
Turned to ashes.
What a good idea
To burn,
Finally to feel
Something, warmth,
Skin cracking,
Blackening,
Burn the house
And everything
Within;
Knick-knacks,
This and that,
All the little nothings
That fill up
My existence, meaningless,
Soon to be just
A claim on the
House insurance.
Firefighters and
Zippo lighters;
Necessary tools.
It starts with a spark
In the right/wrong place,
Smoke-damaged face,
I'm going to
Burn.
Burn • Opuss № I