I am made of fire

written in pieces while in England.. make of it what you will. it's not for me to tell you how to read or analyze poetry.

I am made of fire. Of burning plastic.
I sweat through showers of the frantic.
I still see blood of ruby drenched on the ground.
It is a variable of exactly where i stand
In my shoes, I'm playing this game, too.
We all see such strange, masked detail
Losing regrets, not one thing I've done I would take back.
Would I do differently.
I grew a fast liking to being your truth.
To showing you light, to lending my heart.
I see a shard of glass leaving wounds of the past.
My world did not exist without you.
Admist all others, I love you the best.
And on the road, I sleep for several years.
Leaving behind all the dried up tears
Fate knocks me off my ground.
All I dream of is holding you.
Roses of soft, violent red
A screaming delicasy in my head
Blossom freely under my milky thread
tangled in your hair you see in the mirror
Forgiven for the roses, fallen from my hand
a harnessed ring around my tongue
I glitch from constant denial over the wisdom of thinking
No one can stop you from your own head.
A bible against the dread of being
Yet hope is kindled in your voice.
And the love I feel is inside you as well.