the paramours you leave burning

burning never

thanked me when she gorged on the less

of all my being. In the 

smoke swirled souls of paperbacks, midst

the aroma of my melting playstation. of 

all bedraggled sacrifices

the 300 count zebra bedsheets that were offered

my childhood, I left to be squeezed in a grip

of devouring hands               

the rafters, timbers and carpet fought as honor-

-able martyrs -- struggling in 

formation to liberate me from the pursuants of

burning's self-immolating army. A decree

of destruction, coming from the fuzz: burn the                

christmas lights and mr. swaggypaws, the jaws VHS, and the wifi modem!                

even the sun suffered

as her daughter lit a fatal

cocktail in the minibar. Corpses of splintered casualties eclipsed

burning's body, longitudonal and 

inflated. light beams engulfed                 

every desklamp, compact, even wardrobe and her foster dresses: every glowing artificial star.

Which of my paramours, that burning could

not cannibalize, survived this pheonix'd death is yet to be seen. 

©2014 Lex Vex

Portions of the poem based around Cassius Dios book 62: 

"Nevertheless, in the midst of sacrifices that were offered in Agrippa's honor in pursuance of a decree, the sun suffered a fatal eclipse and the stars could be seen"