Open Flames and Windowsill

My skin is set alight from this burning,

My seat is on fire.

On this empty windowsill, I sit alone;

My personal prison, my personal burning.

My inner snake despises the flames and struggles,

The burns my stomach openly bleed.

Blood flows freely from my wounds,

It only strengthens the chains that bind me to this windowsill.

I wish to fall out of it one day.

To either die leaving it or join the active world.

That small hope is short lived.

My continuing being a snake seals my demise.

The flames that envelop me and caress my slithering body.

I’ll allow them access and burn me once again,

And I’ll enjoy my secret masochistic pleasures.

Come, light a candle,

And burn my soul once more.