Sitting in the living room
rubbing my toes on the carpet
until they ignite like sulfur tips,
sparks run up my feet reaching
the dark gasoline leg hairs
and shoot up to my crotch.

My trunk ablaze, I stand,
hover through the room
raised up by the heat,
never singeing fibers below.
I scoop a handful of fire,
taste its power and swallow.

The flames travel my throat
to the depths of my stomach
licking my insides, as outside
I continue being consumed.
The soft hairs of my abdomen,
chest, and arms aflame,
catching my head, shrouding
me completely in smoke.

I can no longer move,
but stand motionless, a plume
between the sofa and television.
Eventually, I’ll be ash
and from these ashes
I will rise again; immortal.

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