A Sub-Species of Fire

In the brief gestation of a moment some dark force curled in you infected me; I didn't notice and could not prevent the surge of misdirected energy. Nomadic offspring populated nerves; I felt their static move beneath my skin disrupting confidence in my reserve to be resistant in the face of sin. Perverted riddles scribbled through my veins condensing muscle into knotted flesh confusing lines between my wrath and shame; electrifying me with raw distress. I hate the victim I’ve become so much, the way I break all circuits to and from the woman-child that shrinks away from touch not to be pressed beneath another’s thumb. But now this restlessness; it germinates into a blooming sub-species of fire with tongue-like tendrils indeterminate; its petals arced like wombs around my ire. My scorn is deeper than your shadow's fall my tears more shallow than the hate I nurse I'll never march with vengeance, but I'll crawl up in your shadow, be your telltale curse. I'll be the fuse that flares from time to time to fill you full with helplessness and fear and I'll confess your sins, your sordid crimes to damn your life with many empty years. Live on! I'll be there in your wickedness, a battery of rage you cannot see, a coiled current poised to cause distress... the way your deathlessness has been to me.