you fill my stomach with the tickle
of delightful heat

flaming ardor
you guide me down illegal paths and

half-hidden alleyways
i follow recklessly like a moth

drawn to the light too close
and i am singed

too far
and i have lost all direction

you are prometheus,
the martyr, the sage

in the darkness of uncertainty
mother drew the curtains shut

where we are all the same
father locked the doors

one spark and the whole house
burns down

they say you’re a fire hazard
i say you’re the light

at the end of the tunnel,
the door to truth,

but the authorities prevail
so mother snuffs you out,

father tightens the locks,
and we are plunged into familiar darkness once more

---

Seventeen and scared of highly concentrated sulfuric acid. Occasionally creative.