The Unexpected
When it’s unexpected? I’ll burn alive.
My insides will become hundreds of stars.
Little bright lights pressing me to survive,
every scar fills up glass lampyrid jars.
Rings of glowing halos freckle lush skin,
spirals of smoke leave puff lines on exhale.
This montage fusing two horns and a grin
blend together for the perfect cocktail.
A scream will linger more than a whisper,
perhaps I’ll simply try this new tactic.
Ashes contort and diction’s now crisper,
making my phrase a bit more sarcastic.
Maybe I’ll catch fire in my darkest hour,
the pinnacle of sweet turning to sour.
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