The Candle

A candle screams its yellow silence

And intermittent rasps

Into the smothering distance

In hapless flickering gasps

It offers its being to the flame

The flame flicks it into the sky

And in darkness, wilting, diminished

The candle wonders why

The flame unhinges grotesqueries

Upon its waxen skin

And cackles, 'this is you! This is you!

This is what you are within!'

Molten hate coalesces

Above a scooped out head

And drips down in spines of curdled whines

of death knell spawned dread

The candle wept hot anger at fate

The tears hissed at the wood

It screamed and the flame's naked dance

For a moment, suspended, stood

The candle thought, 'the battles I've fought

Have not brought wisdom nigh.'

The flame burns hot, but I seek the dark

Dare I ask, Who am I?'

The candle stood silent, stark

Grey-blue curves twisted and flexed

Time watched noiselessly in the dark

And the flame became a spark