Enraged
I know she is there. I want her smell.
I need her rage, I want her to show me her anger.
She stirs me up, keeps me riled, twist me her way.
Pyromaniac! My daddy said. What is wrong with you?
His voice haunts me.
The sight of him screaming in my face.
Over and over.
Parading nightly.
Her dancing, twirling, prancing whirling happy flames.
Her whirling dress of reds, oranges and yellows.
I know she is there. I need her smell. I glance at my mother.
Is she asleep? Can I get by with it tonight?
I tiptoe to the garage where the gasoline is kept.
He has locked it!
I am enraged.
She is calling my name.
Demanding.
Commanding.
Begging me to spread her wrath.
Luckily an axe was left in the tree stump.
I had left it myself.
I chop a hole in the garage.
What are you doing?
I chop a hole in my dad.
I am in a frenzy now.
Gasoline, gasoline, I am coming, my love.
Pyromaniac? Sure. I might be. Who am I to say?
I am enraged.
I am possessed.
I am fire.
Stand back, voices.
I pick up the gasoline.
Shut up voices!
I am THE fire!
I am pyro.
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