This is shit

I want to feel the bones crack
I want to feel the splinters in my knuckles
I want to feel the blood drip from my fingertips
I want to feel the anger flow through me
I want to feel



To feel the heaviness of love lying next to you, the rumble of snoring in your ear that keeps you awake until the sun peaks the horizon, the crash-and-bang of a heartbeat foreign to your own. These sounds are nowhere near as deafening as an empty pillow, the echoes of your own breath off the wall, the glass shattering in your chest where a heart once was.
Likewise; the soft touch of fabric on a pillow cannot compare to the flames that dance on your cheeks and tickle my palms.
This hollowness inside me can only be filled by the drums in your chest, the thunder in my ear, the weight of your body next to me.
Lay with me, my love.
Until the weight of our bodies cause┬áthe walls to collapse… until the storms shake the earth apart… until our hearts beat in time to rebuild what is broken.

Fire Heart

Flames shoot out of his body
from all angles,
but, where it matters most
he is soft and warm,
his eyes,
and fingertips.
Passerby beware.
Some say he resembles metal after a long rain.
I disagree.
His beauty is unique,
so much so that most cannot hope to appreciate it.
Though, I see it each morning,
each eve,
each time I close my eyes and wish to see something more magnificent than what is before me.
He transforms into something more than my heart could have ever hoped for.
Flames that burn the heart.

Man on Fire

Jack had seen enough. Shutting his eyes he tried to block out the fire that was destroying the city. Everything seemed to flash before his eyes, and not just his life. What about the others? Have they lived their lives the way they wanted to? Are they happy ending their lives at this very moment?
He opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the brightness of the flames licking the buildings all around him. It was nearly noon now, but the sky was black from smoke. God, it’s like the black death. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat and started walking through the streets.
“Hello?” he shouted into the streets, his voice cracking due to the terror coursing through his veins. “Is there anyone here? Is there anyone alive?” he screamed as loud as he could, his fists shaking in fear. There’s no way he’s the only one left in this city… In New York City… There has to be more than one survivor.
The bombs had destroyed everything and everyone. His parents. His sisters. His friends. Their families.
Tears began flowing steadily down his face as he walked, his hands hanging limp as his sides and trembling slightly, his eyes staring straight ahead, un-moving and emotionless at the streets before him that were littered with bodies.
What’s that smell? Burning flesh. he shuddered as his eyes fell on a body lying in the middle of the road. It seemed to be a man, but he could not really tell since most of the body was either charred black or afire. The fat from the body sizzled and popped like bacon in a pan, churning his stomach in knots.
“I can’t live through this…” he muttered, turning his eyes to the blackening sky. “I just can’t.”
He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists as he walked towards a building up in flames.
His screams echoed through the streets for a moment before silence deafened the air.