Cigarettes and Wildfires
There's a fire in my bones.
The drugs slip away and yet the black stays.
Dark shadows color my skin,
Seeping through my skin and tainting my bones.
There are black holes in my marrow.
What are they consuming of me?
What is so sweet that they can keep growing
Effortlessly?
.
Smoke.
There's a wildfire tearing through my cells,
Devouring whole quadrants of my muscles
And the smoke has made the factories of blood in my bones
Sweet as the devil's apology.
It is infinitely burning, infinitely eating
And there is nothing to quell it.
.
The light on my event horizon is beautiful,
Bright like the embers flaring between my lips,
Caught in the cavities of my teeth.
Was that the entrance?
No, this fire started from the wound in my chest,
The flicker of a dream falling through a dark night
Onto the chaparral of my soul, burning, burning, burning.
__________________
Other poems in this series:
About the Creator
Silver Serpent Books
Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.
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Comments (4)
Entrancingly good as usual with plenty of edges that keep things sharp! Loved: “There are black holes in my marrow. What are they consuming of me? What is so sweet that they can keep growing Effortlessly?” The flow and metaphorical weight was excellent!
So poignant and emotional. Loved your poem!
You continue to conjure smoky, saturnine scenes with skill!
Oh, I need to get caught up on this series ASAP!! Wow, I loved the dark, gritty feel and just so many of your word choices. I loved the whole damn thing!!