Spitfire

I’ve got a problem

A medical anomaly that’s been keeping me from living a full life

I spit fire

And I know that your thinking

That can’t be that bad

Then let me tell you a tale

A hot life, made sad

When I cough

It sounds like a camp fire

When I sneeze

I’m a flamethrower

The times I got sick

They didn’t know what I got

So they gave up, diagnosed me

I had the Common Hot

My fever made heatwaves

As I breathed out my mouth at night

I try to dowse my lungs

With big inhales of winter

The result on the exhale

Are tornadoes and twisters

The worst are the days after drinking

I heave magma when my stomach gets sick of it all

And now I can’t stand to drink that shit Fireball

an Ironic twist I know

But you don’t understand my life alone

With the burning tendrils that live in my chest

Preventing me from speaking my mind

A small sarcastic comment at best

Is the only thing I can muster

Without mistaking me for having lackluster

words laying on my tongue

I just can’t help it

Ever since I was born

My words came out lit

I grew up learning my lungs forced

Flames to lick the skin

Of loved ones, or worse

When i'm in the midst of sin

And my mouth breathes heat into her veins

The leather interior of my car melts

Because when she is screaming my name

I know she’s had only one Dane

Who’s been ordained

To remodel the mundane

Into arcane

So insane

That my stain

On this earth

Is made with hot hushed nothings

Giving third degree burns

To a woman in heat

With me

I spit fire

And it’s not as great as it sounds to be