I want to see a light show in ochre and dancers
two thousand degrees in heat: I want to watch them
all traipse across my bedroom floor with their
encore in grey.
Blistered fingers flicking cigarette lighters
to see an orange pirouette turn for me,
my parents worry that I smell of smoke but
they don't know the reality.
The truth is that you can find me weaving
kerosene trails around the moon and Saturn's rings,
telling acorns and oak leaves to enjoy
our favourite disease -
So I flick the lighter once again and speak
to the blackened walls and singed floors:
'don't fear the kiss of the flame,
don't let them douse the burns you reap,
just don't stop dancing, don't stop dancing
For the Fun Fun Fun Challenge at
I very much enjoyed doing this, trying to give meaning and fantasy to what drives a pyromaniac when starting a fire, thus endusing euphoria...
Stock thanks here
More fire [link]
Planet rings [link]
Burning planet [link]