trash fire at alcatraz


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

  • Author: Big Swifty (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 11th, 2018 21:59
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 11
  • User favorite of this poem: Lorna.


  • onepauly

    maybe that's why they say
    ashes to ashes.

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