Blank

I'm unhinged.

As in, busted-the-doors-off-the-frame, unhinged.

I called for universe

But I got the devil.

.

I asked for a drink of cool water

And found blood

Pouring down my throat,

Bitter. Unsatisfactory.

.

It's the soul that's the problem

And no matter how many fire blankets

I throw across the inferno

It still burns.

.

I don't want to smolder.

I don't want to turn into embers

And smoke and things that

Dissipate.

.

Success is no compromise

But a slaughter,

A great dousing

Of the flames that burn.

.

It can't last forever

But maybe I can.

Long enough at least

To set fire to my own pyre.