When.

Waiting in the den

Fire burning within

So hot, so bright

The lamp is of oil

The flames say goodnight

down go the drapes

the chairs

Laughing, how we laugh

Walking through the flames

I want the fire

Hand me a match

Add gasoline

Make it last

Books, my heart, my eyes

You see?

I need to become

A flame

Burning bridges, I want to burn bridges

Destroy

I want to destroy

My fingers are stretched

my knuckles out of place

Reaching, how we reach

seeking, how we seek

My heat is broke

Chewing on chair legs

Shredding up the plants

Waking up

Waiting, how we wait

I wait.

Alone, is how I wait

I can no longer wait

I must

Closing my eyes again

Letting more flames burn within

Swoosh, out goes the light.

__________________

No one will probably get where I'm coming from in that poem... Unless they're experiencing it right along with me. It's a difficult commitment, and it definitely burns me alive, but I sometimes find I live for that flame.

You know what I'm starting to despise? Owl City. HE ISN'T THAT AWESOME PEOPLE! Yeah, his music is cute, and whatever.... but he's nothing more than a fad running through 106.1 kiss fm (And, other popular radio stations round the globe.) Whoopty diddlefreakindo.

Also, Bukowski you're weird. And, I love it.