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Previous - this entry written on February 05, 2002 at 6:32 pm - Next Odd mood. I have a line of pill bottles, baggies, enough medication to send me into unconsciousness. Possibly enough to keep me there. I have a large glass of alcohol. But I'm thinking. The following is NOT good poetry. and you call the flame and you call my name i can feel it strong in the air around you fire burns my hands as i hold them out to you and you turn them away with a curse and a kiss to strike the spark for the flames that kill me slowly as you watch and laugh the fire burns my body sharp pains that i can resist but not for long and when i cry again and when you laugh again i discover that the things that hurt are not from the fire rather they are from you and i accept them because you give them so i am burned because i love only you always you your fire dances in me hypnotizing me from the inside out regarding me hotly as i wait with the fire for a command from you neither i nor the fire realizing that what you ask is for both to die in your service and when we do know and understand when we open our eyes we will accept because you command it i regard you as the fire you control the pain you give the tears you weep the words you speak you do not really understand how much of you i have learned in the darkness of the room where i lay at your feet and dreamed of you and of the flames you have called into being as my intentions fall and i hear you call i close my eyes waiting for you to call my spirit out into your service forever and ever again and the lighting crashes Hosted by Diaryland - All Rights Reserved - Image, Layout, and Content copyright Jax Raven - - Do Not Feed The Moose - |
