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2006-02-10 18:04:04 ET Pyromaniac Son I have this picture of you all dressed up in childhood playing house as children do. I always played the mother and you the child. I accepted your feeble, childish gifts knowing you could give no better, and you adored wide-eyed the mother who kept you safe believing that no abuse would exhaust my love for you. Spring now turned to winter and orphaned are we in the pale chill. your wildfires burned our playhouse to the ground, my pyromaniac son. Separated in the panic we are wandering in the ashes. Greyish soot cakes our feet; What have you done? The fire you promised to tend has been drowned out beyond my salvation. All the matches are gone; burned in the fire left wild in the wind. All we had is charred, dripping cold icicles in the winter gales. Silence has settled upon this pyre. Let us leave it undisturbed. Southernmost ~ The Lucksmiths "Remember when forever seemed just fine? Seen through glasses of rose coloured wine They’d sit up all night talking Now she’s sound asleep to the sound of his walkman And every single weekend The divide between them deepens A curse across the kitchen He might still be within spitting distance But there’s only one way to find out..." |
