Fire.
I just want to burn.
I've been drinking gasoline for eighteen years, waiting for it to ignite. Spark. Flare. Anything.
Do you ever get tired of nothing? I do. And if not, Nothing sure is tired of me. I've overstayed my welcome in her house, drifting barefoot through empty rooms filled with too much furniture and that ugly, familiar carpeting.
I want these flames to turn me inside out. Its not natural to want to wear your scars on the outside; but I want you to see what this feels like. I want you to see what I've been through. I want to burn, bright and terrifying like the sunset during a clear sky downpour. I want you to taste the desolation of the rain.
Fire until edges darken, blacken and crumble bleached to ashes.
Maybe then I'll be beautiful.
P.S.
I'm perfectly aware this doesn't make sense. But its what happens when I get upset.
I've been drinking gasoline for eighteen years, waiting for it to ignite. Spark. Flare. Anything.
Do you ever get tired of nothing? I do. And if not, Nothing sure is tired of me. I've overstayed my welcome in her house, drifting barefoot through empty rooms filled with too much furniture and that ugly, familiar carpeting.
I want these flames to turn me inside out. Its not natural to want to wear your scars on the outside; but I want you to see what this feels like. I want you to see what I've been through. I want to burn, bright and terrifying like the sunset during a clear sky downpour. I want you to taste the desolation of the rain.
Fire until edges darken, blacken and crumble bleached to ashes.
Maybe then I'll be beautiful.
P.S.
I'm perfectly aware this doesn't make sense. But its what happens when I get upset.