8/11/18 10:50PM
every campfire i make turns into a prison cell
the logs are bars up and down
across my face as i lean into
the heat
and as the nights wear
so does my skin
the bars shrink and i just keep putting more wood on
i think it’ll warm me but it always smoldered
the nights do end, venomously as i scatter the bars and logs into some hellish cubic pattern to douse the flame
when my sentence is up
i find my chest puffed in pride
for burning so much so quickly
it doesn’t matter if i’m cold now
all that waste is gone
and the prison gate is too
the best campfire comes when no one
and i mean no one
is around to see the shattered limbs that they siphoned life from
finally turning to ash