Little Shop of Scenes

Sat, 08/09/2014 - 10:26 -- aarman

And he said that I did most things like I drove, like wildfire.

And I shivered despite the searing heat.

 

Truth is, ever since I was six years old I've had a fire inside of me that's been killing me a little more than softly.

It started in a run, fire flash feet, and spread up through my legs to junior year when I couldn't stand up anymore.

 

And it flew, and crackled and blazed right through me.

And it came out of my wrists and took my stomach on the way up; burning whatever it could find and leaving a barren wasteland of skin and bone.

 

Truth is, one of these days it was going to burn right through my head. 

I would laugh then, but again the truth is, the inferno was alight and it was burning away too many things and everything that I knew.

 

And there were months at a time where the fire got so bad that I couldn’t remember who I was or what I was here for.

And in those moments I had wanted to die better than anything you'd ever seen

 

;

 

Flicker, flush, fly in sparks that came out of my lungs and crawled up my throat to produce that sound of being broken. 

It wasn't a bang and it wasn't a whimper, it was a silent okay, the moment of eye contact, the consent, the giving, the taken. 

And it was my world that was ending, but I was okay with that.

In fact, I helped with the matches that I called my fingertips, on my wrists and around cigarettes, but never doing anything better.

And I would die with ink, bathe and drown in it.

Heat it up as it came out like lighter fluid down my spine.

And that too, was okay with me.

//

Truth is, my mama said that I lacked self-confidence and I just told her that I had a fire.

//

He was the first person who told me what kind. 

And the truth continues to be, that beneath all that dying was something not so primal, but too natural at the same time, pining to get out.

It knocked and rapped and sang its song.

And one day it came out in flowers.

Those were the words that made me love.

I would vomit lilacs, irises, violets, lavender and roses into the ears of other people, so that I could feel something.

And it was wild fire, and something pure and dark in my eyes.

And I would set it on fire and run.

Like wild fire.

Comments

JassyLola

Interesting poem how so is this a little shop of scenes? It shall be titled "I am the wildfire".

aarman

I named it little shop of scenes because I am a theatre major. I used to drive someone back and forth to scene shop with me and he always said that I drove wildly. It's a mix of fiction and non-fiction, and I'm setting the scene of where it's happened. :)

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