The gasoline trickles from his mouth like poison saliva
Dripping down to a puddle of matches burning with the colour of the evening sky
I wait
Either for an explosion or for a scream
I wait
Like my parents waited for me to come out of the closet
They're still waiting
The closet is my only protection against the wrath of the flames so I wait
Waiting is always a competition
Always waiting for the winner whether it be death or peace
They are racing around the track
Racing
Prancing
Galloping
Crashing together
Falling flat on their faces so we wait
We wait for them to get up and we wait for the winner but these waiting games are never enjoyable to watch and sometimes they're over all too quickly
The gasoline is almost at the matches
I see the flames curl up to meet their opponent
I wait for the end since I know what will happen
