I was cleaning out the office and stumbled upon this poem I wrote–probably a couple years ago? I like it still, so I typed it up here.


Strike the match
to feel the warmth.
No thought.
No chance.
No flicker.
No dance.

And nothing.

Try again
Won’t give up.
Hope for flame
Play the game.

A spark flies–

It dies. 

And nothing.

No more chances, no more turns,
Why won’t the fire burn?

Strike three.


The fire–it warms
The fire–it soothes
The fire–it burns.

Keep it burning, burning, burning
Stop the yearning.

Beads of sweat
Engulfs the body
Not dead yet.

Flames swirl ’round
Desire found
Combination combusts
Explosion erupts

It rips and ruptures
Tortures and touches
Voice is head

Without a word.

Eyes require 
Single desire–


Just burn. fire