“The sky is on fire I am, too cigarette burns on my faded tattoo.”

You keep asking if I want more – Yet how could I ever say yes?

Sun rising slowly, frost hanging in the plush air; The skies are ablaze.

Be the root of my passion; young love, just you and me.

And I’ll never try to figure you out; You aren’t a puzzle to be solved and set aside.

And if you only opened the window you’d see the morning light seep through.

Today I woke up in fear. Tomorrow I wake up in pain. Still, in a year I will wake up in vain.

Grace juice dripping from your chin you lick your lips basking in the tremors of my shoulders.

It’s as if the words were leaking from my veins, intravenous poison channeled to my heart.

Let the season’s aroma soak into your bones as gingerbread men come to life.

You are so lovable but so hard to love.

She greets death with a curtsy.

Cracks in the glass words we couldn’t invite in yet had to break senseless.

I lay awake thinking about how none of it had to happen for me to get to this point; and how I’m glad I got there, anyway.

I find symmetry in the way our bodies lock curves to match every angle indecision for every smile.

Trapped in a pothole, snow raining down my face I have to wonder will the sunshine come in time?

Hurricanes and airplanes, we fly higher than the end of time.

The Lord is more anxious to forgive our sins than a woman is to carry her baby out of a burning building.

The problem when someone feels burned out, bored, unchallenged, or stifled by their work is not the job itself but rather the environment and playground rules given to them to do the job at hand.

Many fires burn below the surface.

Energy apparently increases with the amount of work to be done. When nothing of burning urgency is waiting, it decreases much sooner. Heaven seems to understand such economy.

How is it possible that with one stare I’m in flames and no fire extinguisher shall help me? and so here I stand a tree burning from inside out of love from you.

Angels, living light most glorious! Beneath the Godhead in burning desire in the darkness and mystery of creation you look on the eye of your God never taking your fill: What glorious pleasures take shape within you!

There is a fire raging inside you; do not allow anyone to extinguish it. And so on these nights when you think you are broken, remember the flame, and feel it burn.

They burned all our witches, so now they get bitches.