How dare he try to School me on the burning of fire!?
Does he not know that I invented it?
Here he stands as evidence; happily scorched, blissfully ignorant, prettily blushing.
The burning of fire is me.
In my deepest intensity.
A fatal attraction
A dance of distraction
A surrender to a power
That grows with every hour
Building to a crescendo
A spiritual inferno
Destined to devour
Everything that is ours.
Until we are rendered ash
And crash
into nothingness with harsh whiplash
Controlling flames like whip and lash
Fire Goddess, complete with sash
How dare he try to School me on the burning of fire!?
Does he not know that I invented it?
19:53
Thu 30 April
My bathtub
Cocomo
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of Now
PoetryA few poetry pieces in non-specific genre but very specific moods...
