Supernova

I.

Anger sizzles on my skin

Goosebumps filled with burning oil

Hot to the torch

Scorching

I squeeze them and they explode under my fingertips

Lava oozes from my pores

Coating my body in hellfire

 

Deep beneath my skin

What should be warm blood coursing through my veins

Boils instead

Bursting the capillaries

Melting the arteries

 

My fragmented soul is exorcised from my body

Its burning embers ignite strands of my hair

Until I am entirely consumed

by the blaze

 

II.

In a moment of vanity

I wish to see myself before I burn out

Blinking away sparks from my eyelashes,

I gaze at my reflection

But my uncontrollable rage burns brightly

And its white hot light blinds me forever

 

III.

One day, when I burn brighter than I ever have,

People will tell all sorts of stories about me

But I  will not be able to refute them.

My tongue, having long since been reduced to ash,

will fail me

My voice will collapse in my throat

coated with cinders

 

I ask that when you tell my story,

And you will,

You do your best imitation of me

And say these words

with every ounce of sincerity

 

Whoever told you

that the things that burn the brightest don’t last as long

never met me.