It's an Easy Kind of Fire

I am cold, and it's wild. I am so alone, and it's holistic in its embrace. I told her I'd show her my teeth if she showed me her lips. I said, “This is my home, I welcome all brittle bones and stones”, but she wouldn't drink it down. So in fit of childish sophistication I tuck her tightly in her bed and whisper, “Sleep well, my lovely little one. Don't worry, it's an easy kind of fire”.

Memories come like frost; slow, chilling your breath, and destroying fragile things. Her skin is gasoline, and my fingers are matches. They say when ivory meets sapphire then my hunger will be satisfied. They say once I put my seed into her, there's nothing more I can do. She bit off my thumb and ring-finger, and boiled the bones to make a broth, I think we'll put in my mother's iv.

There were two sisters, one was a woman, and one was young, and they loved each other. Their love was strong and wild, like a chemical fire in a meth lab, but their father drove them apart. And after many years they stood over his grave, drinking vodka and sniffing glue. The young one held the woman close, and bit her ear. The woman put her hand up the young one's skirt, and their father rolled over in his grave to get a better view. Now no one ever thought much of their childhood games, but now the sight hits too close to the mark, and now everyone in this small town is terrified of a little love.

I am warm, and it's refreshing. I am awake, and it is bright and irritating. I told him we wouldn't stay long, I told him “I am shedding my skin for you, the least you could do is sing a song”, but he isn't alive anymore, and I cannot bring myself to bury him yet. I clutch his corpse close to my chest and whisper, “Sleep soundly, little prince. Don't worry, it's an easy kind of fire”.

Dreams rise and fall like empires; getting fat and bloated, stretching themselves too far, spreading too thin until they burst. Her teeth are flint and steel, and my tongue is dry bark. No one told me that scars can change the way you see the sunrise. No one told me that when you rip it out, it doesn't grow back. He took my imagination and heart in his fist and shoved them into a blender telling me not to over-think it all, not like the boy-lovers and men without hair. I think we'll give the mixture to our children.

We were two brothers, and we were both boys, remember the summers and autumns we spent being knights and red-blooded patriots in the old yard we called Wonderland? Remember your sisters, and their teacups, and how we made them feel like they would never be harmed? Bandits, and sheriffs, that's what our afternoons were filled with, and sticks and little piles of stones and paper, all for us. No one could touch us or our dreams, no one could understand them like us. But then you grew up, and got too busy polishing your boots to talk with me anymore. You said I shouldn't sleep so much, shouldn't think so much, shouldn't speak and wink so much. I still clung to who you were, I still saw you siting in your sisters' room plucking the strings of your banjo while we talked about the current tax code. I know it's all gone now, never coming back, but take courage brother, me and her will never fall out of love.