The Metrist Adrift

To keep up though, here is a pre-edit piece.

A Decent Earning

Summer heat
Window ajar and welcoming
every manner of summer insect
with half the sense to follow
the seductive flickering of
a candle by my windowsill.
Lit for the sake of scent, I claim
but in truth, I care little for
the vanilla rising from its flame.
I light it for the excuse
to touch the books of matches
strewn across my room -
relics of a past cast aside.
I no longer long for tobacco
(most of the time)
The oral fixation is gone
The tactile fixation is gone
I do so miss the lighting, though.
Primitive desire, I suppose
but in our modern world
fire
hands on fire,
is preserved for survivalists
and country homes.
And the striking of a match
serves to satiate my
city boy pyro blues.