Up in Flames

The clothes on the floor
under the door it went
the radio's on loud
my energy's spent.
A bottle of rum
and some dark red wine
scissors in hand
everything will be just fine.
I listen at the door
no sounds can be heard
it's one in the morning...
you refused my words.
With my chair on my bed
i undo the smoke alarm
no one will know--
silence can do no harm.
I've lit papers on my desk
and next is the matchbook
the strike of a lighter,
wouldnt you like to look.
There's spilled booze on the floor
I forget how it got there
the flames consume it with hunger...
The scissors, at my flesh do they tear.

I sit on the floor and gaze at the sky
I feel pain & rage that cannot be tamed
silently i watch...
And the moon goes up in flames.