To Go Camping with an Egomaniac

I’ve thrown Indian cooking spices into the bottom of my socks

I place the cotton on the bottom of my feet and dangle them over an open campfire

Boots once kissed and blessed,

float down a salt river vowing revenge against me for ruining the integrity of the leather

Once my soles and heels begin to singe,

I take a deep breath and step onto the coals and dry-wood currently ablaze

This is exactly how it felt when you jolted me awake,

begging for something I didn’t have,

or when you drove my car into a tree with my drunken figure unconscious in the backseat 

The flame grows like vine up through my lower half;

the sweltering smell of burn rises up into the sky,

I look up with an ear-to-ear grin wondering why I did this to myself

I’m not one to be played with,

my nails are sharp,

my mind is open,

and a broken chord can trigger an alarm clock 4 hours too early

Once my facial hair begins to fade,

I pull a lighter out of my burning pocket

I shake the fluid in the plastic and hold it up to my forehead;

my forehead where my hairline meets my iris,

and I turn the gears

Now I’m fully ablaze and you’re standing on a green patch next to me;

watching,

pondering,

licking your fingers like you’ve had a divine meal

Broken and twisted,

my legs fall forward;

my head lands at your feet