Carrying a torch
I suspect, like the rest of us-
Firestarters.
Literal ignitors.
Incinerate is also one of my favorite
injections.
Annihilate also,
an equally affectionate term
of endearment; intrinsically, me.
Who'd like to
Obliterate the words into invisible
strands of silken smithereens
that contrail traces of sulphuric smoldering
acid rain and combust blood as dry rust
when mixed with ink.
I think
I am betwixt.
I trust truth
shot from the canons lip
as if it would help
the self-destruction, vis-a-vis
reconstruction along
To start a pyre and burn it all up
before any further corruption
acting like battery acid
leaks out, infuses or incites
one of those pesky muses,
Andromeda forbid.
Albeit-
if you can read this
I remain,
sparkless.
Image of painting by Eero Järnefelt (1893) Burning the brushwood [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
