Poems and Things

Gasoline

We are all the same,

As we are constantly making and unmaking ourselves,

As we hurry toward who we'll become,

As if there was one way only, one life only:

As if we are free in time but not free from it.

But I am different, I am tired of running away from meaningless seconds,

Running though I know it will inevitably catch up to me.

I've been broken and put together again too many times to count,

Made and unmade both by myself and by the world.

I want to be done playing this endless game.

So, I set fire to my toes,

Make me never again feel them tingle in excitement.

I set fire to my feet,

to make my body as unstable as my brain,

since there's no solid ground to stand on.

I set fire to my legs,

and with them my pants,

to cremate all of my lies, both the little-white ones and the life changing ones.

I set fire to my hips,

so they will never again sway to the beat of a cheesy love-song.

I set fire to my stomach,

because I never again want to endure nervous butterflies.

I set fire to my heart,

I should have done that a while ago,

because there's no point in having one if you can no longer feel.

I set fire to my arms,

so they will never again embrace you in times of tragedy nor those of joy.

I set fire to my neck,

the only thing for my heavy head to stand on.

I set fire to my head,

the face you once called beautiful, the internal chaos, the mess of train tracks going every direction, the ears that listened to you breathe at night. 

I set fire to my eyes,

glazed and dead anyways, they can't bear to look at you anymore.

I set fire to my scalp,

the only part left to blaze, the hair that always tickled your chest when I rested my head on your warm body.

But as I stand here,

waiting, burning.

I can't help but wonder,

do you still love me?

Do you need me the way a car needs gasoline?