Incendiaire

Odors.

Smelt of kerosene and gasoline,

Flooded the bedroom floor,

Covered the torn-up walls;

Blood running down his arm,

Dripping like honey,

Upon the dampened carpet.

Standing before the room,

Knife in hand,

No movement; No sounds,

Staring into the nothingness,

Thoughts of loss,

Of failure,

Of regrets,

Everything wrong & nothing good.

Hibernation within’ the mind,

Isolation from the life,

Dissociation from yourself.

Scratch the tip of the match,

Toss and watch.

Listen to the sound,

Of flame and kerosene embrace,

Like two lovers on a rampage,

The feeling of creation,

Uplifts through thy self,

You last great feeling,

Your greatest accomplishment,

The finish line.

Your home now.