Mostly memorized timed at 3:02
Pyromantic
Mesmerized by motor oil floating in a bucket of rubbing alcohol
his eyes are sparks
words form in odd burst like smoke rings.
Just alcohol and it’s purely cosmetic
All flash no fuel.
There’s no commitment
Without motor Oil.
He places tampons, reverse teabags into empty glass bottles
Funnels each rocket 9/10ths full from his bucket. color
travels up the cloth wick.
He jokes I’m the only man alive who buying tampons while wearing a devilish grin
cashiers jump they notice he lacks that sheepish face.
Working balls wax between fingers he makes 6 half dollar pieces.
One at a time. he warms them over a portable electric stove
grabs the bottles, pinches clothe wick firmly to the glass.
Pressing on the malleable wax until fully sealed.
Finished
he says It is about product rather then production.
he calls the process too scientific to love as he explains
the caps keep the solution from spilling allowing for more penetration as
You can throw instead of lobbing.
After packing the bottles neatly into a backpack he leaves
I follow him a glowing child radiating mystery,
trough alleys the conversation is gone
I am guest at a ritual. He stops on the side of a 7 story office building sets down his backpack
Lines up 6 bottles.
Pulls a book of matches out his pants pocket
Lights match, then wick, stares at royal blue flame dancing on sizzling wax.
Everything humans fades from him as the as the bottle leaves his fingers
A beast craning its neck to the sound of broken glass
Faceless. Contorted by shadows
Until the building starts getting flush.
Then Match wick window,
Audible Burning from the first floor
the second story beginning to loosen
each burst of hot air blowing humanity back into his features
wick burning building
melting floors break from walls buckling
Illuminating fire throwing explosive lights
Fire glass floor
excitement overpowering restraint
bodies Ravished
getting wet as sprinklers
Try to contain there growing lust
Glass breaking burning
Panting hot breath she reflects the god in him
his eyes son chariots
Looking so deeply so quickly he sees
The building at one with itself unrestrained it is not embraced to fall apart
Burning sirens panting
He walks away
I follow Without turning back
This man of flame lights a cigarette exhales
Only then I think to ask what if he got caught
Or someone was in the building
He just says I
let my body lead
hoping no one get hurt
focusing on the follow through
When I have to walk away I force myself to remember
we are only alive until our burning stops.
