​Loud as Hell crashing up through the ground. I don’t do gently closed doors. There are locks for a reason. Slam it and deadbolt. Kick it off the hinges. Dig a moat and fill it with piss and acid. God is a gentle whisper. He and I ain’t the same.
Pain is a coal that slowly blackens and eats away my insides. Pulling it from a bed of ashes makes it hotter to touch. I’m already burnt now, and I’ve got fuel for days. To steal a line from a love song, here’s a ‘spark for my bonfire heart.’
I don’t simmer well. Bitter herbs only make a bitter reduction. Boil the poison out. Burn the haunted house to the ground. Set a blaze in the black and dance naked, screaming ‘I am here, you Night!’
Here’s what I think of this black and clouded sky: I’ll make my own stars of the sparks from this inferno. A fleeting true north of my own. In the red light of fire reflected in my weeping eyes, I will be my full Moon tonight. 
I know how to tip-toe quiet in the dark. Learned how when I was afraid of it. I won’t now, because I’m not anymore. I won’t now, because fear never served me well. Crashing the brush. Breaking the glass. Dare them, ‘Come out!’ Dare them, those phantasms under beds, in closets, in my head. We all die. I won’t await my doom shivering in my bed. I won’t. 
Fear eats me from the inside. A cooking flame that prepares me for the beast, slowly. Rage burns without, and within. When it finds me for my turn on his plate, he will taste not but ash in the mouth. My tender parts will have been spent as sparks soaring up into the night. Bon Apetite, motherfucker.

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