Fridge Poetry 10 - Laughing in flame

That one has the soul of a genius and

the spirit of a dreamer and

the heart of a drunkard,

a man who can never smile.

He is all thunder and lightning,

a rolling storm that knows only enduring collapse.

But, he is hardly a pariah when

embracing his bitterness and

brilliant poison

and promising proof of a poet’s

delightful pain.

The cursed lover to mortal ennui

and dead son of the godly;

a liar if one ever did walk

the earth;

that is the truth, so as my hair

grows.

You’ll know him by his raw howling and

wicked, flushed whispers of honey that

charm and caress and sucker the heart,

making hell in life and death alike, without grace

and laughing all through the fire.